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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970435">hello, hello</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess'>bellawritess</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>5 Seconds of Summer (Band)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Actor Ashton Irwin, Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Celebrity, Depression, Drinking, First Kiss, Fluff and Humor, Friends to Lovers, Friends to Strangers to Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Hurt/Comfort, I DONTK NOW MAN, M/M, New Old Friends, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, bandter but theyre not in a band, but as if their looks stopped evolving when they were 19 or 21, child stars reunited fifteen years later au, edit i have just been informed that ashton is not yet 26. fucked up if true, however for the sake of ive already posted this just like. pretend, i dont wanna say like 'guitarist ashton' but.....he kinda is, ill put a better tw in the notes but just b careful!!!, just imagine....24 year old luke and 26 year old ashton, suspend disbelieve thank you heart emoji, that's the vibe of this fic, this fic is not that serious i PROMISE however it does contain the following:</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-06-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-08-25</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-04 00:28:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>30,363</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24970435</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bellawritess/pseuds/bellawritess</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>For one long, blinking minute, Luke stares at Ashton and wonders if he’s hallucinating. Because that’s definitely Ashton. That’s Ashton Irwin, his former best friend from <i>Sunny Days</i>, the show they co-starred on as children.</p><p>But it’s also definitely Ashton Fletcher, professional film actor worth many millions, possibly hundreds of millions, of dollars, standing on his doorstep, wind ruffling his hair.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Luke Hemmings/Ashton Irwin, Michael Clifford/Calum Hood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>256</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>224</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. hello, hello (i'm not where i'm supposed to be)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>well holy shit! ive had this fic sitting in my drive for ages just waiting for the right time to post it. it is FINISHED, i'm just going to be posting it slowly, but i promise i will not leave anyone hanging. i am not a monster</p><p>trigger warnings for referenced alcoholism (it is not a problem in the actual fic itself, just mentioned) and depression (not severe) as well as alcohol/recreational drinking. i THINK those are the only significant TWs but if i leave something out (1) i am very sorry and (2) please!! let me know i will tag it</p><p>this started as a tumblr askbox prompt and then got so absurdly out of hand so some thanks are in order. first of all <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin"> helen</a>, the literal love and light of my life, and <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashisonthefloor">ainslee</a>, my dearest, for like. reading this fic and saying it's not terrible. and not letting me SCRAP IT and also just? in general for being sooooo wonderful. also shoutout to third love of my life <a href="https://killingangels.tumblr.com/">lou</a> who originally sent me the prompt so technically she's to thank for the existence of this entire fic</p><p>lastly! (unless i think of something else): the title of this fic and all the chapter titles come from the song <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DC_TrsY7U3A">Sober Up</a> by AJR, which is the theme song of this fic, insofar as fics can have theme songs. i'm not gonna say you have to listen to it to appreciate the fic but i really do love how well it fits the story</p><p>with that..........................onward</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>For one long, blinking minute, Luke stares at Ashton and wonders if he’s hallucinating. Because that’s definitely Ashton. That’s Ashton Irwin, his former best friend from <em> Sunny Days</em>, the show they co-starred on as children.</p><p>But it’s also definitely Ashton Fletcher, professional film actor worth many millions, possibly hundreds of millions, of dollars, standing on his doorstep, wind ruffling his hair.</p><p>“Ashton?” Luke says, just to confirm that this isn’t, like, a mirage, or something leftover from the dream he’d been having — nothing to do with Ashton, but you never know. Then, feeling weird about it, “Irwin?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ashton says. Definitely Ashton, then. And presumably real, unless Luke’s imagination has gotten a lot better very quickly. “Luke. I’m so sorry to show up like this.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Luke says. He rubs the sleep out of his eyes. That’s what he gets for thinking he can get a night of sound sleep, apparently. “Uh, come in? I guess?”</p><p>Ashton looks so profusely grateful to be let in that Luke doesn’t even second-guess it.</p><p>“You can sit,” he adds, when Ashton looks lost. “Like, on the couch. I’ll make some tea.”</p><p>“I’m really sorry,” Ashton says nervously. “I didn’t really — I know this will sound crazy, but I didn’t know where else to go. Or, uh, you were the first person I could think of.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Luke says again, finding that hard to believe but far too tired to argue. It’s 3am, is actually what it is. And it’s not raining out, but it looks like it could be, any minute, and it’s <em> three in the morning </em> and Luke is exhausted. </p><p>But, like.</p><p>It’s Ashton.</p><p>“I’ll make tea,” Luke repeats. He’s not sure he remembers any English other than <em> it’s okay </em> and <em> I’ll make tea. </em> Talk about survival phrases.</p><p>He goes to the kitchen and flicks on the light. The sudden illumination hits him like a freight train, and Luke realizes: he’s fucking awake at three in the morning with <em> Ashton Fletcher Irwin </em> in his living room. What is his life. What is <em> happening. </em></p><p>He puts the kettle on and sets about making tea. </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Okay,” Luke says, once he’s sat down across from Ashton in the living room and they both have tea. “Um, is everything — okay?”</p><p>He’s really not sure where to start. <em> Saw your last film, </em> he wants to say. <em> You were great, but the writing was awful. Do you know when the movie’s bad? Do you do it anyway? Are you acting for the self-actualization, or for the money? How are you, overall? </em></p><p>But it’s a bit much for a person he hasn’t seen in fifteen years, so he keeps it to himself and blows on his mug.</p><p>“Sorry to drop in on you,” Ashton says, avoiding the question. Luke doesn’t call him on it. Ashton looks so unsettled, so <em> wrong </em> — in a shirt that probably cost him Luke’s entire monthly rent, sitting in his living room. There are bags under his eyes that seem to go on for miles. He glances around himself. “You live alone?”</p><p>“Mostly,” Luke says. “Officially, my friend Michael lives here. Unofficially, he’s all but moved in with Calum. His boyfriend. Sometimes he comes back to keep up appearances.”</p><p>“Ah,” Ashton says. “Um, your house is nice.”</p><p>“Sorry if this is rude,” Luke says, “but how did you know where to find me?” He swallows, wishing the tea weren’t too hot to drink so he could have some other way to occupy his mouth. “We haven’t spoken in…awhile.”</p><p>“Um,” Ashton says uncomfortably. “It’ll seem stalkerish if I tell you.”</p><p>“It already kind of does,” Luke says, not trying to be mean, just honest. “I’m just — if you, like, found my address on Google, I’d like to know, so I can make it, like, more private. So actual stalkers can’t find me. Not like I have any, but in case I did. Um.” </p><p>Ashton breathes through what might be a chuckle. “It wasn’t on Google.”</p><p>“Okay,” Luke says. If it were anyone else, he’d press, but this is Ashton Fletcher. He can probably access the Google Satellite with his status. If he wants Luke’s address, well, Luke’s powerless against the forces of fame. So here they are.</p><p>“You’re,” Ashton says, looking at Luke for a long moment. Luke fills the gap with all kinds of words while Ashton ponders, and then finally he finishes, “older.” </p><p>“Well, yeah,” Luke says. “Fifteen years older. You’ll find you are also older, actually.”</p><p>Ashton shakes his head. There’s a smile on his lips. “And funny,” he says, partly to himself. He looks up at Luke, and Luke is hit with how much he remembers Ashton’s eyes. Everything about Ashton is older, more mature, more adult, (<em> hotter, </em> his mind supplies), but his eyes are pretty much the same. They’re still light even in darkness, and still the greenest hazel Luke has ever seen. They still have that ability to see right through him like he’s cellophane. Luke’s twenty-four and has still never met anyone able to do that like Ashton does.</p><p>And the last time he saw Ashton, he was <em> nine. </em> So.</p><p>“What’s, uh,” Luke says. “What brings you here?” That’s neutral, isn’t it? Not accusatory, but still inquisitive. Luke shouldn’t feel this self-conscious about everything, all of a sudden. Part of him wants to pretend it’s just him and Ashton on the <em> Sunny Days </em> set again, hiding in a corner and whispering about what they’d do with all their money when they became famous, but a very real part of Luke knows that this is the present, and Ashton <em> has </em> all the money from becoming famous, and they are not the children they once were.</p><p>Ashton drums his fingers on his mug. “It’s strange,” he says. Luke thinks it’s a non-sequitur, then realizes it’s a forewarning to Ashton’s reason for showing up out of the blue.</p><p>“Yes it is,” Luke says, because this is already strange. He gestures, <em> go on. </em></p><p>Ashton puts his mug on the table. Luke watches the steam rise steadily off the top, trying not to get caught up in Ashton’s eyes again. “I’ve been nostalgic lately,” he starts. “Rewatching old <em> Sunny Days </em> tapes. We were so happy back then. If you rewatch it you can tell — I can see it in the tapes. I know people say not to be, like, child stars, but we — I mean. <em> I </em> loved being on that show. It’s probably my favorite thing I’ve ever acted in.” Luke tries not to think about what that means for Ashton. If his favorite acting role happened when he was eleven, that means it’s been fifteen years of steady decline for him. “I,” Ashton says haltingly, “I made some — bad choices. I’ve had a rough go of it, recently. And I realized…that I’d forgotten…how to be happy with what I’m doing.” </p><p>Luke wants to shout, <em> it took you fifteen years to realize you’re unhappy? </em>  But that’s irrational, not to mention unfair. He swallows the comment and takes a sip of his tea. Hot, but not scalding. </p><p>“But everyone I know does it,” Ashton continues. His knee is bouncing. Luke knows nervousness when he sees it. It’s funny; he’s seen a handful of interviews with Box Office Smash Ashton Fletcher over the years, and Ashton is always so cool, so collected, so brilliantly charming, with the most dashing smile ever. But here, in Luke’s unkempt living room on Oak Street, he’s hunching into himself, bouncing his knee, and fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. The mothering instinct in Luke wants to wrap Ashton’s hands with his own and smooth his rough edges. But he’s an adult man, and so is Ashton.</p><p>He keeps his hands to himself. Ashton carries on.</p><p>“I haven’t spoken to someone outside of show business in what feels like forever,” Ashton admits. “Apart from, like, my family. But it’s hard, with family, you know. And I guess you were on my mind, because of the old tapes. We used to be best friends.” He says it like a plea, like Luke doesn’t remember that. Like he’s trying to give Luke a reason to let him linger another few minutes. “So I looked you up, and found you.”</p><p>“Couldn’t find my number, though?” Luke says, weakly attempting to tease. “Ring ahead?”</p><p>Ashton frowns. “No. I mean…I thought you’d find it invasive to just…<em> find </em> your phone number. This felt somehow better, although in retrospect, I don’t know how.” </p><p>It is better, actually. Luke doesn’t say anything to that. He looks around the room, trying to see it through Ashton’s eyes. It’s nice for being a year out of university, but surely not nice compared to the places Ashton’s seen and probably lived. Luke’s always felt very fortunate to be employed at all, much less to be the manager, at such a young age. People tell him that all the time when they ask to speak with the manager and he’s the one who comes out. Or if they don’t say it, Luke can always surmise from their reactions; a few blinks, a raise of the eyebrows — sometimes looking past him as if expecting someone older and wiser to come out.</p><p>Luke’s eyes land on Ashton again, who’s fixating on his tea as if it will answer his questions and relieve his burden. He looks different, but also the same, a little bit, just enough for Luke to have to shake off some cognitive dissonance. Luke still remembers the conversation they’d had about moving in together after <em> Sunny Days. </em>He can see, with startling clarity, Ashton’s grin as Luke had sketched the mansion they’d move into together once they both became rich and famous.</p><p>
  <em> Two swimming pools. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Why do we need two swimming pools? </em>
</p><p>
  <em> One for me, one for you. </em>
</p><p>Ashton, sweetly taking the pencil from Luke’s hand and scratching out one of the swimming pools. <em> We can just share, </em> he’d said. <em> We’ll share everything anyway. It’ll be both of our houses. </em></p><p>Luke wonders if Ashton remembers that conversation, too. Probably not. Ashton’s rich and famous now, and Luke’s living with Michael. But every once a while Luke thinks about that dream, and wonders what the hell happened.</p><p>Maybe that’s why he says, “Are you staying?”</p><p>Ashton’s eyes meet his so suddenly that Luke has no time to prepare. His soul is suddenly bared. “Staying?” Ashton echoes. Luke’s never heard someone so uncertain. He feels wrong, being the person to strip Ashton Fletcher down to his core.</p><p>“Yeah, like,” Luke gestures around himself. “Obviously it’s not what you’re used to. But, uh. If you’re looking to escape, I promise no paps are going to find their way to Oak Street. So if you want to be off the radar for a bit, you can stay.”</p><p>Ashton looks like Luke’s just proposed marriage, or something. “You — you don’t have to offer that,” he says, and Luke senses he’s on the verge of crying.</p><p>“I know,” he says, hoping Ashton doesn’t break down. “I mean it, though. I’ll just tell Michael to stay with Calum, he probably wasn’t planning to come back anytime soon anyway. It’s no trouble.” He pauses. “Long as you help with, like, dishes and all.”</p><p><em> No trouble </em> is probably the right way to put it; it’s not like Luke has anything going on in his life that’ll be upended by the sudden reappearance of Ashton Irwin. He’s got no boyfriend, and his job is a standard nine-to-five that leaves plenty of time for home life. His only housemate doesn’t ever really live here anyway, and nobody in the world of show business ever seeks Luke out anymore, since he’s not really made any sort of name for himself, so his little corner of Oak is tucked away and hidden from the world. That’s how he likes to think of it, anyway.</p><p>Ashton’s smile is so fragile, Luke is worried it’ll shatter. “Okay,” he says, voice barely above a whisper. “If it’s okay with you. I — I just need some time away. I’ll help out and everything, and I’ll be scarce, you won’t even —” </p><p>“I said it’s no trouble,” Luke interjects. “Don’t make yourself scarce, Ashton. I wouldn’t offer if I didn’t mind having you.” Probably false — Luke is a pushover with an empathetic nature, which is an unfortunate combination — but Luke means it, and says it with conviction, and Ashton looks convinced.</p><p>“Okay,” he says. “Thank you. You’re — I was worried you’d be different, but you’re not.” He laughs a little. “I mean, you are, but in good ways. Not like me.”</p><p>“You’re different in good ways,” Luke protests feebly. He’d like to know what Ashton means by that.</p><p>Ashton gives him a sad smile. “Just goes to show how little we’ve spoken,” he says, “that you think that.”</p><p>Luke doesn’t know what to say to that. He doesn’t follow Ashton in the news — has no reason to — so maybe he’s done something terrible that Luke doesn’t know about?</p><p>“You can take Mike’s room,” is all he says. He tries to offer a kind smile with it. Ashton doesn’t look very reassured. “He’s got a bunch of, like, music posters up, but as long as you don’t touch them it’s fine. He’ll come collect them at some point or another. It’s just there, past the bathroom. Which you also can use. Everything’s free to be used. Make yourself at home.”</p><p>Ashton looks like he’s on the brink of another bout of thankfulness, and Luke doesn’t feel comfortable accepting any more compliments or profuse thanks at this time, so he stands up, reaching for Ashton’s mug off the coffee table. “I’ll just wash these and — oh. Do you have clothes?” </p><p>Ashton presses his lips together. “It’s fine,” he says. So no, then. Luke doesn’t remember Ashton being this timid. A lot can change in fifteen years, apparently. A lot has.</p><p>“Just take something of mine,” Luke says. They’re not anywhere near the same size, and Ashton’s clearly more muscular, something Luke has been doing his level best to ignore, but he’s got several oversized t-shirts from various occasions that Ashton can borrow, and boxers, if necessary. “Take whatever. Don’t say no,” he adds, because Ashton looks like he’s about to. “If you don’t let me be hospitable I’ll be upset. I never get to host guests.” Ashton looks conflicted. “My room’s the one past Mike’s,” Luke tells him. “Just take anything from the dresser. We’ve got laundry for a reason.”</p><p>He takes Ashton’s mug, which is halfway empty, and his mug, which is mostly full, to the kitchen. He rinses them out and checks the clock, which announces that it is 3:37 in the morning. <em> Christ. </em> And it’s Tuesday, which means Luke has work tomorrow. Today. Whatever. Fuck. Maybe he’ll call in sick. No, that’s a shit move. And Ashton’s arrival shouldn’t affect his working schedule. Not like Ashton’ll be paying the bills or anything. He’s a guest — albeit maybe long-term — and it’s still Luke who’s responsible for keeping the living situation afloat. So. Work.</p><p>He sets himself about ten alarms on his phone. As he’s heading to his room he runs into Ashton coming out of the bathroom, wearing an old Good Charlotte t-shirt and sweatpants, both Luke’s. It would be a lie to say Luke’s heart doesn’t stutter at the sight. </p><p>“These are comfortable,” Ashton says, in a quiet voice.</p><p>“Good,” Luke says. “Listen, I have work at nine, but you can sleep as long as you like. I’ll probably leave around half eight. Don’t be alarmed. Uh…there’s eggs and bread and stuff in the kitchen, just poke around for breakfast whenever you wake up. If you need anything —” He racks his brain for a reason Ashton might have his phone number, and comes up empty. “I’ll put my number on the counter.” Bizarrely, he feels like a mother, leaving his house to babysitter Ashton. <em> And here’s my number, call if you need anything</em>. Ashton rocks on his feet, hands shoved in his pockets. Luke wants to tell him he looks nothing like the man in the movies, but he’s not sure if that’s a comfort or not. Ashton Fletcher is supposedly big and proud and powerful and alluring. Ashton Irwin is just human. Luke likes this version better. He doesn’t know if Ashton would agree.</p><p>“Thank you, Luke,” is what Ashton says, looking into his eyes. “I mean. Thank you for…this. Everything. I don’t know how to thank you, but…thank you.”</p><p>Luke smiles helplessly. “Hey,” he says, “what are childhood best friends for?”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. we said that we'd keep in touch (and we did our best)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I think he’s trying to escape,” Luke says finally.</p><p>“Well, duh,” Michael says. “I would, too, if I were constantly being hounded by the press about, like, being depressed and an alcoholic and possibly gay and whatever else is going on with him. The media really hates Ashton Fletcher.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>update schedule??? idk her. got bored so here you go! chapter 2! enjoy love you guys thank you so much the reception to this was so overwhelmingly positive and amazing and like..........anyway yeah just love all of yall okayyyyyyyy bye</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Luke’s fourth alarm goes off at 7:50am. He finally groans, rolls over, and opens his eyes.</p><p>God. Four hours is <em> not </em> enough sleep. Luke feels like he’s been run over by a tractor. But it’s a working day, and he has responsibilities. He trudges out of his room, and belatedly remembers to walk light so as not to wake Ashton.</p><p>Which turns out to be a futile effort, because Ashton is already awake when Luke enters the kitchen. And there are eggs cooking.</p><p>Maybe his footsteps are loud or something, because Ashton hears Luke before he comes in, and turns around. He looks much better, which seems impossible after only four hours of sleep — probably less, if the eggs sizzling on the stove are any indication. He’s still wearing Luke’s clothes, now mussed up from sleep. Luke is suddenly very aware that he’s not wearing a shirt. He wraps his arms around himself.</p><p>“Good morning,” Ashton says. “I’m making eggs.”</p><p>“I see that,” Luke says. “Um, thank you?”</p><p>“Do you like eggs?” Ashton asks, forehead creasing in worry.</p><p>“Yeah, yes, of course,” Luke says. “I just. I figured you’d be asleep still.”</p><p>“Oh. Nope.”</p><p>And that’s all, apparently. Ashton turns back around and prods at the eggs in the pan with a spatula. Luke returns to his room to get dressed.</p><p>When he comes back to the kitchen, the eggs are on two plates, and there’s toast, as well. Luke rubs his eyes. He’s still partially convinced this is a hallucination, but it’s a very elaborate one if it is.</p><p>“You work at the cinema?” Ashton asks, setting the plates across from each other on the table. Luke glances down at his uniform shirt, which has the cinema logo on the left-hand side. He crosses behind Ashton and gets two forks and two knives from the silverware drawer. </p><p>“Yeah,” he says. “I’m the manager.”</p><p>“Oh!” Ashton sounds surprised. “That’s a big job.”</p><p><em> Very nice of you to say that, Mr. I-Played-The-New-James-Bond, </em> Luke thinks to himself. “Yeah,” he says. “I worked at the cinema for, like, all four years I did my business degree, so if they hadn’t made me manager I’d be pretty offended, I think.”</p><p>Ashton laughs lightly. His voice is so much deeper now, but the cadence of his laugh is familiar. Luke remembers his nine-year-old self saying, <em> Hey, Ash! Look! </em> Pink feathers in his hair. <em> I’m a girl. I’m being Nina. Aren’t I pretty? </em> Ashton had laughed then, too, an octave higher but otherwise just the same. <em> You are pretty, </em> he’d said. <em> Pretty stupid. </em></p><p>Luke wonders if there’s irony in him managing a cinema after starring on a kids’ show. He hopes Ashton doesn’t ask if Luke has seen any of his films. Luke has, but not because Ashton was in them. And he hadn’t liked most of them. </p><p>“You studied business?” Ashton asks. Luke nods and tucks into the eggs. They’re good.</p><p>“These are good,” he says. </p><p>“You sound surprised,” Ashton says.</p><p>Luke hadn’t meant to, but he is surprised. It’s just…well. Ashton’s <em> Ashton. </em> Luke expects him to have, like, a personal chef and stuff. </p><p>“Thanks for making breakfast,” he says, trying to avoid the obvious statement of <em> you have too much money and fame to be good at cooking. </em></p><p>“I like cooking,” Ashton says, which is a response both to what Luke has said and what he hasn’t. “It’s comforting. Like, if you follow the rules, it’ll always come out right? Plus, I felt like a thank-you was in order. One of many.”</p><p>“Stop thanking me,” Luke says. “You’ve already exhausted your thanking privileges.” He eyes his toast. “Needs Vegemite,” he says, and gets up to retrieve it.</p><p>“I’ll never have exhausted my thanking privileges,” Ashton says. “But that doesn’t mean I won’t try. So, breakfast.”</p><p>Luke spreads Vegemite on his toast and takes a bite. He pushes the Vegemite towards Ashton, who hasn’t really touched his breakfast. “Eat,” he says. “Reap the fruits of your labor.”</p><p>Ashton looks up at Luke. His eyes look lost for a moment, and then he returns to reality. “Um,” he says. “Alright.” He laughs to himself. “Feels like I haven’t had Vegemite in ages.”</p><p>“What?” Luke says, horrified. “How?”</p><p>“They don’t sell it most places in LA,” Ashton says, ducking his head as he does. “And, I don’t know, it sort of escaped my diet.”</p><p>Somehow, Luke’s managed to forget that Ashton doesn’t live in Sydney anymore. And now that he’s reminded of it, he realizes just how far from home Ashton is.</p><p>He’s probably in trouble with someone important. Nobody’s come knocking on Luke’s door by now, which means nobody knows where Ashton is, and if that’s true, then Ashton’s going to take a lot of heat when — if — he returns to the limelight. That knowledge must be stressful to carry, Luke muses.</p><p>“Well, I may not have a lot, but I always have Vegemite,” he says reassuringly. “So you don’t have to worry about that anymore.”</p><p>Ashton’s smile is so bright, it makes the morning seem dim in comparison. “Thank you,” he says, and there’s a hint of impishness in it.</p><p>“Stop thanking me,” Luke warns. He waves his fork. “Just eat your food and relax.” He glances at the clock — it’s 8:20, so he should start getting ready to go. Luke has a car, but on principle tries not to drive to work — doing his part for the environment, and also petrol is expensive. Accounting for bus times and margin of error and all that, he usually gets to the theater about five minutes before nine if he leaves at half eight.</p><p>Ashton eats his food, but doesn’t seem very relaxed. Luke remembers he’d meant to put his number on the counter, but now that Ashton’s up it doesn’t make much sense, so he says, “Can I put my number in your phone? You can call if there’s anything you need.”</p><p>Ashton opens up his phone and hands it to Luke, screen open to <em> new contact. </em> It’s weird to think about holding Ashton’s phone in his hands. There are probably contacts in here of people Luke’s only ever dreamt of meeting. Ashton probably has a direct line to, like, David Spade. But it’s also just Ashton, his old co-star from when they were kids, before either of them were old enough to have phones, before smartphones of this caliber even <em> existed. </em></p><p>He keys in his number and puts his full name at the top, because Ashton probably knows a thousand people named Luke. The very nosy half of him wants to surreptitiously tap to Ashton’s home screen and see what his background is, and what kinds of apps he has, and whether he sorts them by name or by color or not at all. He doesn’t.</p><p>“Okay, I’m heading out,” he says. “As long as you don’t burn the house down, everything will be fine. There’s Netflix on the TV, there’s a bunch of old DVDs if you’re interested, and I have an iPhone charger beside my bed that you can use. And the wifi is on the router, which is under the TV.”</p><p>“Is your housemate likely to come round?” Ashton asks.</p><p>Luke shakes his head. “Michael’s my assistant manager, so he’ll be with me all day. I’ll tell him you’re here, just in case.” He will <em> definitely </em> tell him. It will involve a lot of hand gestures and some serious self-analysis, and Michael is going to be the best friend ever to listen to it.</p><p>“Thank —”</p><p>“Don’t finish that,” Luke says, holding up a hand. Ashton’s eyes crinkle, and Luke gets the sense he’s being made fun of, a bit. It makes him feel warm. Like they’re friends who make fun of each other. Luke wants that for them.</p><p>It’s been a long time since he’s seen Ashton — like, properly a long time — and Luke’s only now realizing how much he’s missed having someone like Ashton in his life.</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Michael is Luke’s best friend. Luke finds that easy to forget when he’s trying to set up the display for the new Pixar film and all Michael wants to do is ask him about Ashton.</p><p>“Michael, just put the frame on, <em> please, </em>” he says through gritted teeth. </p><p>“What’s he doing at our house?” Michael prods, like he hasn’t just asked some variation of this question six hundred times in a row. Luke thinks it’s pretty rich that Michael’s calling it <em> their </em> house when Michael hasn’t been there in going on two weeks. “Why would he come to you? Didn’t you say it’s been —”</p><p>“Fifteen years, yes,” Luke says. “For fuck’s sake, Michael.”</p><p>Michael finally hops off his perch on the trash can and fits the frame back over the glass. Luke tugs his fingers out at the last second and Michael pushes the frame into place. “Looks nice,” Luke says. “Well done.” He sighs, finally, and brushes the hair out of his eyes. “I don’t know, Mike. He just showed up. I haven’t even thought about him in forever, and now he’s, like, living in your room.”</p><p>“If he touches my posters, I’ll kick his ass,” Michael says. “I don’t care if he’s the new James Bond. Nobody messes with my Mark Hoppus.”</p><p>Privately, Luke thinks that would be a very entertaining and short-lived showdown. </p><p>“He’s not touching your posters, Mikey,” Luke says. “Jeez. And anyway, it’s not like you live there anymore.”</p><p>“I’m still paying rent, though,” Michael grumbles.</p><p>Luke pats his hair. “That’s why I love you.”</p><p>“I should just move in with Calum now,” Michael whines. “He won't make me pay rent.”</p><p>“Should’ve thought of that before you co-signed the lease with me.”</p><p>“Who cares about our stupid security deposit,” Michael huffs. “I literally have a month left on that fucking lease.”</p><p>“Calum will still make you pay rent,” Luke says. “He’d be stupid not to.”</p><p>“But I'll pay him in blowjobs, so —”</p><p>“<em> Mike, </em>” Luke hisses, looking around out of instinct. Nobody’s here, though. The place doesn’t really get busy until about three in the afternoon, and it’s been like that since Luke worked here as a janitor. It doesn’t stop him from getting anxious about scaring off customers, though. And Michael never censors himself, which is part of the reason Luke became manager and Michael didn’t. Also the fact that Michael’s hair is dyed like three different colors and he has tattoos that can't be hidden by the uniform.</p><p>“Relax,” Michael says, apparently forgetting the fact that Luke hasn’t been relaxed for twenty-four years and isn’t about to start now. He leans against the movie poster they’ve just put up, arms crossed over his chest. “Seriously, Luke, your life is crazy. You couldn’t make this shit up.”</p><p>“I know,” Luke says mournfully. </p><p>“It’s a good thing, dumbass,” Michael says. “You never do anything exciting. Hey, maybe you could sell a movie plot about this. Finally solve the mystery of who would play you in a movie. Plus you’d break back into the industry.”</p><p>“First of all, I don’t want to break into the industry,” Luke says, and means it. “And secondly, even if I did, I wouldn’t prey on Ashton’s weakness like that. Clearly something upset him so much he had to, like, dig through his past to find the only person who doesn’t know him now, and I’m not going to jeopardize that for him.” He falls silent for a moment, gazing thoughtfully at the Pixar poster, which is full of bright colors and blocky font. “I think he’s trying to escape,” he says finally.</p><p>“Well, duh,” Michael says. “I would, too, if I were constantly being hounded by the press about, like, being depressed and an alcoholic and possibly gay and whatever else is going on with him. The media really hates Ashton Fletcher.”</p><p>Luke does a double-take, and then another just for good measure. “What?” he says.</p><p>Michael looks like he’s about to pull his hair out. It probably wouldn’t be too hard, what with all the hair dye abuse. “Luke,” he says, “you work at a fucking cinema. Would it kill you to keep up with the news about the people who literally keep our jobs afloat?”</p><p>Luke hears the words <em> depressed </em> and <em> alcoholic </em> and <em> gay </em> bounce around his brain until there’s nothing else in there. “Say that again?”</p><p>Michael starts making his way to the concessions area, so Luke follows. “I’m not going to pretend I know all about it, because the media are vultures, and all that,” Michael says, waving a hand. “But there’ve been loads of articles from the past couple years about, like. Rumors about Ashton Fletcher hooking up with guys, and the way his mental health has been on an obvious decline, and then around this time last year — according to the press, which, again, unreliable — he started drinking a lot, and then had to go to rehab.” Michael shrugs uneasily. “I don’t really follow him a lot in his career, and even I heard a lot about it, so…take from that what you will.”</p><p>Luke thinks about Ashton showing up at his doorstep at 3am, with the plea that he didn’t know who else to turn to but a figure from deep in his past. He remembers Ashton’s sad smile.</p><p>
  <em> “You’re different in good ways.” </em>
</p><p>
  <em> “Just goes to show how little we’ve spoken, that you think that.” </em>
</p><p>“Oh,” Luke says dimly. “Oh.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Michael says.</p><p>“Are they — why do they hate him, exactly?”</p><p>“Luke, I just told you I don’t keep up with him,” Michael says. He must see something despondent in Luke’s face, though, because he softens. “Best guess? People started slamming him for the drinking, which, if it were me, would have only made it worse, and you know how people get about addicts. Especially gay addicts.” Michael’s face is grim now; Calum’s a recovering (gay) addict, too. Luke was on the periphery for some of it. He knows enough to know it sucks. “And then the mental health thing sort of just…Look, I don’t know him, and you do, and I feel weird telling you this like I’m some kind of authority. You may as well ask him. He must have come to you expecting that you’d have questions. And it’s not rude to ask.”</p><p>“It kind of is,” Luke says. </p><p>“No it isn’t,” Michael says. “Just ask in a way that makes it clear you won’t think less of him for it. And then put on <em> Love, Actually </em> or something cheerful like that.”</p><p>“Is that what you did?”</p><p>“Well, Calum and I fucked,” Michael says dryly, “but I’m not sure I’d recommend that for you and Ashton.”</p><p>Luke almost chokes on his own breath. “You’re a menace,” he tells Michael. “Stop swearing at the theater. Take the cash to the bank, would you?”</p><p>“Are you saying I <em> should </em> recommend that?” Michael asks, backing away towards the cash registers. Luke makes a face that hopefully conveys <em> I fucking hate you</em>. Michael grins toothily and blows a kiss. Luke flips him off. He has orders to fill out and no time to think about fucking Ashton Irwin.</p><p>(He thinks about it anyway, in between the moments thinking about <em> alcoholic </em> and <em> depressed </em>and Ashton standing at his stove, making breakfast.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. growing up, it made me numb</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You might as well just move in,” Luke says without thinking.<br/>Ashton blinks. “Sorry?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>disclaimer i've never lived on my own in a house i have no idea how leases work or anything i did some research but this fic is not a how-to guide on leasing homes okay let's move on</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Ashton doesn’t contact him at all until Luke’s already on his way home. And he doesn’t text.</p><p>“Hello?”</p><p>“Luke,” Ashton says, like he’d been worried it was a fake number or something. Luke wonders if that happens often to him, or ever.</p><p>“Yeah, it’s me,” Luke says. “Hey. Find everything okay? Burn the house down?”</p><p>“Yes, and no,” Ashton says. “Everything’s fine. I just — I wondered if — if I could trouble you to stop at the shops on your way back, maybe?”</p><p>Luke does a mental inventory. Initially he hadn’t planned to go shopping for another few days, but that was B.A. (Before Ashton), and Ashton’s probably used to three-course meals every day. (Luke has no idea how fame works, but he expects they eat very well.) He tries to work it into his budget, but his brain is fried from looking at order forms.</p><p>“Uh,” he says, but doesn’t get further before Ashton interrupts.</p><p>“I’ll pay, of course.”</p><p>“What? No.”</p><p>“Luke,” Ashton says. “It’s only fair.”</p><p>It is only fair. It’s actually more than fair, because Ashton has a lot of money, and this food will feed him, too, but Luke still feels funny letting him cover any of his costs. He’s an adult. He should be able to support himself and any guests he takes in.</p><p>“Well,” Luke says, conflicted.</p><p>“Please,” Ashton says. “Let me.”</p><p>Luke tries to see this as a favor to Ashton, and with Ashton’s tone, it’s not hard. “Okay,” he says, wincing at himself. “If you insist.”</p><p>“I do,” Ashton says. “And if you want, I can tell you a few extra things to get so I can cook. Um. If you’re interested.”</p><p>“Yes,” Luke says hurriedly. “Yeah, I’d be happy to. No problem.”</p><p>Home-cooked food. God, imagine having <em> that </em> in the house. Michael’s a mediocre cook at best, and Luke’s absolutely useless in the kitchen, so between the two of them they’ve <em> maybe </em> had pasta, once, and that’s about it. Luke even microwaved eggs once, which went about as well as you’d expect.</p><p>His mind drifts to the wine tree in the corner of his living room — the piece had been a gift from his mum when he moved in (why she thought he’d need a <em> wine tree </em> of all things is beyond Luke), and there are two or three bottles on it. He wonders if he should, like, cover it or something. Maybe he should ask Michael. </p><p><em> You should ask Ashton</em>, Michael’s voice says in Luke’s head. It annoys Luke that even in his own head, Michael’s able to contradict him.</p><p><em> I don’t want to be rude</em>, Luke answers himself, defensively.</p><p>
  <em> We’ve already been over this. It’s not rude. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> Easy for you to say, you’re not the one who has to ask. </em>
</p><p>Even in his own mental battle he knows that’s not true, exactly. Michael speaks from experience, and, loath though Luke is to admit it, he’s probably right. It’s best to ask.</p><p>Doesn’t mean Luke has to like it, though.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Ashton opens the door, confusion evident on his face. When he sees Luke’s hands full of grocery bags, understanding dawns. “Oh, sorry,” he says. “I forgot you didn’t drive.”</p><p>Ashton probably gets driven everywhere, Luke thinks to himself. “That’s okay,” he says. “I got all the things you said. Plus more Vegemite, in case we run out.”</p><p>“Good to be prepared,” Ashton confirms, a smile on his face. </p><p>“What did you do today?” Luke asks.</p><p>Ashton sighs. “Read a bit. Took a nap. Did some yoga. Watched <em> Friends</em>.” Yoga sounds like a famous-person thing to do, but Luke wouldn’t know. </p><p>“Season 2?” Luke asks. It’s the only DVD he has. Ashton nods.</p><p>“Kind of a random one to have lying around,” he says. “It’s a good season, though. And, uh, I cleaned the kitchen, as well.”</p><p>“You did what?” Luke bustles into the kitchen and looks around. Every surface is spotless, cleaner than it’s ever been. “Holy shit, Ashton. You didn’t have to.”</p><p>Ashton shrugs self-consciously. “I thought it’d be a nice thing to do. Anyway, cleaning relaxes me.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Luke says.</p><p>“You can’t thank me,” Ashton says. “I haven’t finished thanking you yet.”</p><p>Luke rolls his eyes, fairly confident that Ashton is joking. He’s glad Ashton feels comfortable enough to joke about it. “Well, if you want to make whatever it is you plan to make with…” He pulls something out of the grocery bag at random. “Garlic, be my guest. The kitchen’s all yours. I’m gonna have a shower.” He pauses, gives Ashton a once-over. “Those are your clothes from yesterday.”</p><p>Ashton glances down at himself and slowly nods.</p><p>“Okay,” Luke says. “Is there anyone who can, like, bring any of your stuff? Did <em> you </em> bring any of your stuff? Do you own anything in Sydney anymore?”</p><p>“I have a place here,” Ashton says. All casually, like, <em> oh, yeah, I’ve got loads of houses, one of them is in Sydney, no big deal, I just live here sometimes when I fancy it. </em> “I think — someone can bring me my things. I’ll call someone. Sorry.”</p><p>Luke feels badly having Ashton do that, because it’s so obvious that Ashton wants to be left alone by his whole show business world right now. But there’s not much to be done for it. Ashton needs clothes, and he’s all the wrong dimensions to be wearing Luke’s, or even Michael’s. Laundry will only get them so far.</p><p>“Great,” Luke says. “Don’t be worried about it.”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“Like,” Luke gestures vaguely, and Ashton looks further disconcerted. Luke sighs. “I’m terrible at being a guest, you know? I do this, too. Try to, like, shrink. Take up the least amount of possible space, be as little of an inconvenience as I can, make myself useful. So I get it. Like, the instinct. But I don’t want you to. We’re — we’re friends, yeah?” Ashton looks hesitant. Unthinkingly, Luke reaches for him, puts a hand on his shoulders. Ashton looks taken aback but not offended by the touch. Progress, maybe. Luke takes his hand away and shoves it in his pocket. “We <em> are</em>. So, just. I’m not going to kick you out for anything. Unless you try to kill me.” A smile cracks the edges of Ashton’s mouth. “But apart from that. You don’t have to <em> do </em> anything or <em> be </em>anything to earn your privilege. This is just a place, and you can stay as long as you like. I meant that before and I mean it now.”</p><p>Ashton looks like he’s going to cry, and Luke feels bizarrely like <em> he’s </em> going to cry. He shakes his head a bit. “Um, so I’m going to go shower,” he says. “Get cooking.”</p><p>Ashton doesn’t say anything, but his eyes seem grateful. At least he’s not thanking Luke again. Luke smiles at him and heads to the bathroom to shower.</p><p>When he comes out, the house smells incredible. Luke puts on joggers and a t-shirt and goes to the kitchen. The aroma from whatever Ashton has cooked is filling the entire place, and Luke’s mouth is watering just being in the same room. </p><p>“Fucking hell,” he says. Ashton jumps. “Oh, sorry, didn’t mean to startle you, it just smells fucking amazing in here.”</p><p>Ashton smiles, bright. He looks so domestic, standing at the stove, making dinner. It’s like he’s been here all along, and Luke can’t help musing that he fits right into the scene. “It’s garlic and butter salmon. Should be ready in a few minutes, and there are mixed vegetables, but I just heated those in the microwave. And I’ve called someone to bring me, like, clothes and stuff. Just so you know.”</p><p>“You might as well just move in,” Luke says without thinking.</p><p>Ashton blinks. “Sorry?”</p><p>“Uh.” There must be a reason Ashton <em> can’t </em> move in. Like, he’s got a career. <em> (Which he’s obviously trying to evade. </em> ) Luke has a job. <em> (Everyone has a job, that’s part of being a person.) </em> Michael technically still lives here. <em> (Michael might as well just co-sign with Calum.) </em> Ashton’s not on the lease. <em> (The current lease expires in one month. They can lie to the landlord for a month.) </em> Ashton has, like, probably nine houses. <em> (It’s not like he can’t afford them.) </em>Luke flips through the reasons while Ashton stands there, looking a bit dumbfounded, and he finds he can’t think of a single reason not to repeat the statement. “You might as well move in, I said.”</p><p>Ashton laughs, clearly uneasy. “Funny.”</p><p>“I mean it,” Luke says, entirely sincere. “Look, why not?”</p><p>Ashton falters, still holding a spatula in one hand. Luke gets deja vu from that morning. “Because,” Ashton says. “I have, like. A job.”</p><p>“Which you’re currently actively avoiding,” Luke points out.</p><p>“And so have you!”</p><p>“I went to work today,” Luke says. “And you didn’t burn the house down, as I requested.”</p><p>Ashton looks away from Luke, casting his gaze anywhere else, it seems. “Luke,” he says, “you don’t — you can’t just let me come back into your life. You don’t know me anymore, okay? I — I don’t know you.”</p><p>That one stings, a bit. “Okay,” Luke says. “I don’t know what your favorite color is or your favorite film, or your favorite pizza toppings. So what? I know enough. You’re still Ashton Irwin, to me, you know.”</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Ashton says. “I’m not.”</p><p>“You are to me,” Luke says firmly. “I don’t care what decisions you made in your life. You’re still kind and thoughtful and funny and sincere. That’s all that matters to me.” He swallows around a lump in his throat. “If you don’t want to, that’s okay, but don’t just say no because you don’t think you can. You can. I’m asking you. I’m inviting you.”</p><p>Ashton stares at him. “How is it possible,” he says slowly, “that when I was eleven you were the best person I knew, and now I’m twenty-six and you’re still the best person I know?”</p><p>Luke blushes. “You don’t have to decide now,” he mumbles, trying to tamp down the fluttering in his stomach. Ashton’s better than he gives himself credit for. Ashton is unwaveringly good. “But consider it a standing invitation.”</p><p>Part of Luke wonders if he’s absolutely insane for this. Whatever he said, Ashton’s kind of right: they <em> don’t </em> really know each other anymore. But…they did, once. This was the plan, once upon a time. And Luke believes, strongly, that Ashton is still the genuine, heartfelt guy that he was at eleven. Maybe that’s crazy, but Luke’s always one to trust his gut, and his gut is practically doubling over bowing at Ashton’s feet.</p><p>He <em> wants </em> Ashton to say yes. He <em> wants </em> to live with Ashton. Ashton is in his kitchen, and Luke is that nine-year-old boy with a pencil again, etching out a home just for the two of them.</p><p>Ashton turns around and twists the stove off. “Dinner’s ready,” he says over the tense lull in the kitchen. He clears his throat. “Thank you,” he says quietly. Luke allows him this one. “I — I’ll think about it. It means a lot to me that you offered.”</p><p>Luke offers him a small smile, hopefully an olive branch. The atmosphere feels awkward, and he wants it not to. “Well, let’s see about dinner, and maybe I’ll change my mind,” he says. Ashton laughs, and just like that, the tension is gone.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Dinner is incredible. Luke wonders how Ashton got so good at cooking. Luke has had to feed himself for roughly a year now and hasn’t gotten any better, and Luke doesn’t have the excuse of being too busy to learn. But it feels like Ashton’s in a new picture every year or two, and Luke’s pretty sure filming movies is one of those all-consuming tasks that allows no time for leisure.</p><p>Not that he would know.</p><p>Michael’s voice is obnoxiously humming <em> Do I Wanna Know? </em> by Arctic Monkeys in his head. Of fucking course even in Luke’s head Michael is the most passive-aggressive son of a bitch ever.</p><p>Luke <em> does </em> want to know, is the thing. He wants to know what he can do to help. </p><p>The sunlight is fading fast out the back window, and Luke finds himself watching the colors bleed through the sky, avoiding Ashton’s eyes. They’ve settled into a comfortable silence. In the quiet, Ashton’s fingers drumming rhythmically against the table echoes loudly. Ashton must realize it, because the noise quickly ends.</p><p>Luke clears his throat and looks back at Ashton. “Thanks for cooking,” he says, again. Ashton’s eyes crinkle as he smiles.</p><p>“Stop thanking me,” he says. Luke blushes. </p><p>“I, uh.” It feels so <em> awkward</em>, is the thing. Luke takes a deep breath. Eyes closed, headfirst, can’t lose, he thinks, although he’s pretty sure that’s not the original saying. “I haven’t really been keeping track of you in the news, but…I heard some things, today, and I just wanted to ask you about them, because I know the media always, like, twists things.”</p><p>Ashton’s features switch from a grimace to a frown to a determined sort of resignation. “Of course,” he says, and his voice sounds cracked. “Go ahead.”</p><p>Luke doesn’t like that he feels like he has a higher ground here. He wants this to be a mature, balanced conversation, not an interrogation. “First of all,” he says, “you don’t have to tell me anything, if you don’t want to. I already said I won’t kick you out. I haven’t heard anything to make me want to change that opinion, and I really doubt you’ll say anything. I — I’m not trying to catch you or anything like that, you know? I’m just trying to — understand, I guess. Have all the information.”</p><p>Ashton nods, minutely.</p><p>“Right. Okay.” Luke runs a hand through his hair and worries his bottom lip between his teeth. He misses his lip ring. Before he’d been manager, it hadn’t been a problem, but now he’s worried about the impression it’ll give people, the manager of a cinema with a lip ring. So he’d taken it out a couple months ago, and keeps forgetting to put it back when he’s not at work. “Michael said he heard you went to rehab for something?”</p><p>Ashton’s hands are clasped in front of him, and his knuckles are white. “Yeah,” he says quietly. “I had a drinking problem, last year. But I’m clean now, I promise — nine months, almost.”</p><p>“I,” Luke says uneasily, “I’ve never — I don’t know anyone who’s had that, so I don’t know how to, like…” He shakes his head. This is hard. Being a mature adult is hard. Luke hates Michael. It’s probably much easier when the other person in the conversation is your boyfriend. “I have, like, wine in the living room,” he finally says. “Should I put it away? Leave it? What’s the best thing to do?”</p><p>“Oh,” Ashton says, and he looks taken aback. “No, you can leave it. I’m — I’m good now. I’m better now,” he amends.</p><p>Luke nods. “Okay,” he says. “Is there, like. Anything I can do?”</p><p>Ashton bites his lip. Luke tries not to track the motion, and fails.</p><p>“I appreciate you asking. Just, uh. Don’t talk to any paparazzi?” He laughs weakly. “No, nothing you can do except, well, you’ve already done it, frankly.”</p><p>Luke tilts his head in acknowledgement, feeling relieved. “Alright. That’s — that was all.”</p><p>“That’s all?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Luke says. “I mean, look. You can tell me anything you want to tell me, but I won’t pry. You have a right to your privacy same as I do. And I don’t read the news, like, ever, so you don’t even have to worry about that.” He laughs a little, which feels wrong to do in the current atmosphere. “I’ll take anything you say at face value, just so you know. I have no reason not to trust you.”</p><p>Ashton looks the same way he had last night, when Luke had asked if he was staying. Like he’ll break at the slightest touch, topple over at the gentlest breeze. “That’s all,” he repeats, like he can’t quite believe it.</p><p>“Yes,” Luke says.</p><p>“You just wanted to know about the wine? In the living room?”</p><p>Every second Luke feels more and more like he’s missing something. “Is there something else I should have asked?”</p><p>Ashton exhales a sound that would be a laugh if he didn’t look so distraught. “Oh,” he says, like a broken record. “I — I have a few more demons than just that one.”</p><p>“That’s fine,” Luke says, brows furrowed. “So have I. I’m not going to make you tell me. This isn’t, like, a courtroom.” He scans Ashton’s face, screwed up with uncertainty. “But if you want to tell me, I’ll listen,” he adds.</p><p>Ashton’s fingers twist around themselves, and Luke tries not to watch him do it. “I’d just rather get it out in the open,” Ashton confesses. Out the window, the sunlight’s nearly gone; strips of orange gleam against the horizon, but the sky is dark. Framed by the light of the kitchen, it’s a bit jarring.</p><p>Luke waves a hand, encouraging. Ashton takes a breath.</p><p>“The drinking happened because I was depressed,” he says, all in a rush like it wouldn’t have gotten out otherwise. “Um, clinically. And I hit a lull in my work, so I sank into it — anyway, I started drinking a lot, and it became a problem. And, uh, I tried to keep it quiet, but you know how the press is.” He huffs, shaking his head. His hair falls over his forehead. “Maybe you don’t. But anyway, somehow they caught wind. Tabloids published things, and they made me seem pretty awful, and then I had a lot of people telling me I was irresponsible and a bad role model and dangerous and, like. It didn’t, ah, help.” He swallows, and his fingers close around his glass, which is empty. Luke unthinkingly pushes his own full glass of water forward, and Ashton looks up, surprised. He takes a sip. “Anyway. About a year ago, my agent recommended I go to rehab, which obviously I eventually did, and that worked. And then I went to therapy, and I’m…I got a lot better. Hence the yoga — and I take antidepressants, and stuff. But coming back to my life after I got better made me realize how much of it I fucking hated. Plus, I don’t think the press has let go yet. It’s kind of why I’m hiding.” He winces. “I never thought I’d be the kind of person who hides, but I guess I am, huh.”</p><p>Luke finds his voice. “I think there’s a difference between hiding and strategically lying low.”</p><p>Of all things, Ashton’s lips quirk up at that. “<em>Strategically lying low. </em> That’s nice. Makes me sound clever, instead of cowardly.”</p><p>“Don’t say that,” Luke says. “If they had legitimate leverage and you were guilty, then yeah, you’re hiding. But they don’t, and you aren’t. They’re just attention whores with zero conscience, and you’re a good man who’s been pushed too hard for too long.” He’s not sure where the words are coming from, but he’s confident they’re right. Luke may not follow Ashton’s life to the minute, but he hears his name enough to know he’s done what feels like a hundred movies. Anyone working themselves so ragged in a business that merciless <em> would </em> have issues. The last thing Luke’s going to do is hold him responsible for things beyond his control.</p><p>Ashton looks like he’s withholding a lot of replies. Luke gives him time to sort out his internal struggles. Eventually, Ashton says, “I’m trying not to be self-deprecating, but you’re being unusually nice.”</p><p>“Do you mean you don’t think I’m usually this nice, or that people aren’t usually this nice to you?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ashton says. Luke blinks, unsure how to take that.</p><p>“Well, I promise I’m not usually this nice,” he says, because he has to say something. “See what happens if you beat me in Fifa.”</p><p>“I don’t play Fifa,” Ashton says. Luke’s face goes from neutral to stunned.</p><p>“<em>What? </em> Alright, I could deal with the other stuff, but now you’ve crossed a line. Get out of my house.”</p><p>Ashton giggles, which shouldn’t be so cute coming from a grown man, but is. “Wow. Recovering alcoholic with depression, no problem, but as soon as I don’t play Fifa, I get the boot?”</p><p>“I’m a man with standards,” Luke sniffs. “You have no excuse not to play Fifa. I can’t believe this. I’ll just have to force you to play.”</p><p>Ashton laughs. Not for the first time, Luke wonders what it would take to get Ashton to laugh forever. However bad he was, and however little Luke knows about it, it’s hard not to look at him and think he looks better. There’s a shine in his eyes, and his cheeks dimple when he smiles like it’s his natural resting face. Luke remembers that it used to be. The dimples are familiar. He can think of a thousand instances of Ashton laughing; at him, with him, because of him, around him. Times they had to cut because Luke made a face at Ashton behind the camera and Ashton couldn’t keep it together. Somehow, <em> that </em> kid became an A-list celebrity. Luke realizes he’s staring at Ashton and cuts his eyes away.</p><p>“Thanks for listening,” Ashton says gently. Luke chances another look at him. “I’m glad I came, Luke. I really didn’t realize it, but I’ve missed you, a lot.”</p><p>Luke’s heart feels warm and fluttery. “I’m really glad you came, too,” he says, trying to infuse his words with all the candor they possess. Before he can lose his nerve, he continues, “It’s weird, because I know it’s been years, but…it doesn’t feel like it. It just feels normal.”</p><p>Ashton looks content at this admission. “Yeah,” he says, and his lips upturn. “It does.”</p><p>“Thanks for trusting me.”</p><p>This time Ashton’s laugh is more of a breath. “Thanks for trusting me first.”</p><p>Luke watches Ashton and thinks, <em> it’s never a question with you, Ashton. In any lifetime, if you knocked on my door, I’d let you in. </em></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. i want to feel something again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p><b>luke:</b> hey, how’s the house holding up?<br/><b>ashton:</b> Well, I’ve started several fires, but managed to put them out. don’t think Luke will notice though.<br/><b>ashton:</b> fuck, didn’t mean to send that to you</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>another disclaimer i have never been a movie theater manager i have never worked at a movie theater the end<br/>anyway. calum, finally</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It takes Luke three tries to get up the next morning. He’d slept <em> terribly, </em> and had woken up about five times in the middle of the night for no apparent reason, and he’s in a truly foul mood. When he trudges into the kitchen, though, Ashton is there, making breakfast again. Most of Luke’s mood dissipates instantly. He considers asking Ashton to marry him.</p>
<p>“Good morning,” Ashton says without turning. Luke yawns and slumps against the back wall of the kitchen.</p>
<p>“What is that?” he asks. “It smells amazing.”</p>
<p>“It’s a Middle Eastern recipe,” Ashton says. “Called shakshuka? I probably said it wrong.”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t know,” Luke says.</p>
<p>“It’s just poached eggs in tomato sauce, basically,” Ashton says. “It’s really good.”</p>
<p>“Well, I trust you,” Luke says, rubbing his eyes. He’s still, like, 50% asleep, and has no idea what poached eggs are or how they’re different from any other form of eggs, but the scent in the kitchen is heavenly.</p>
<p>“As you should,” Ashton says. “I am a phenomenal cook, as previously established.”</p>
<p>“Did I ever say you weren’t?”</p>
<p>Ashton grins at him, full wattage. Luke desperately wants to know how he can be so wide awake at eight o’clock in the morning. He’ll have to ask later, when his brain doesn’t feel like it’s still curled up under his sheets. The weary feeling doesn’t show signs of letting up soon, unfortunately. This might be one of those days.</p>
<p>The shakshuka is delicious, especially with the bread Ashton had requested Luke buy yesterday. <em> Note to self: stock the kitchen</em>, Luke thinks.</p>
<p>As he’s getting his stuff together to leave, Ashton says, “By the way, my friend will be over with my things today. Just so you know.” </p>
<p>“Awesome,” Luke says. He almost says, <em> you can finally stop sleeping in my Good Charlotte tour shirt, </em> but catches himself. He doesn’t actually <em> want </em> Ashton to stop sleeping in that shirt. He looks good in it. “Will he be bringing any paparazzi?” he jokes instead.</p>
<p>Ashton makes a face. “I really, really hope not,” he says. “I don’t think so. If he does, I’ll leave. I —”</p>
<p>“No,” Luke says. “I mean, I was teasing. But don’t leave. I can handle paps.”  He grins. “We were <em> both </em> stars of <em> Sunny Days</em>, weren’t we?” </p>
<p>Ashton looks positively delighted by this quip. “Oh, of course. We’re both extremely well-trained at handling the press.”</p>
<p>Like they hadn’t been shepherded everywhere, ushered from place to place by their parents and constantly supervised by Grown-Ups and Adults In The Business. Nine-year-old Luke remembers giants towering over him at all times. He wonders what he’d think if he met their old director now. Luke’s like six feet four, and he’s pretty sure Jenny had been 5’5 on a good day. He chuckles to himself.</p>
<p>“We’ve really gotten older, haven’t we,” he says.</p>
<p>“Proud of you for finally noticing,” Ashton says. “We have, yes.”</p>
<p>Luke points at the kitchen. “Are you washing dishes? No. Get to work, slacker.”</p>
<p>Ashton laughs as Luke leaves the house.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Luke chances a text to Ashton around noon, because his day’s been pretty slow so far (nobody’s coming to a movie at midday on a Thursday) and he feels like it’s the responsible thing to do. Not to mention polite. </p>
<p><b>luke: </b>hey, how’s the house holding up?</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>Well, I’ve started several fires, but managed to put them out. don’t think Luke will notice though.</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>fuck, didn’t mean to send that to you</p>
<p>Luke laughs, out loud. Michael, who’s eating a box of sour patch kids, looks over at him. “What?” </p>
<p>Luke just waves at him, dismissive. “Stop eating the snacks,” he says. “Those are for customers.”</p>
<p>“Oh, yeah,” Michael says, making a sweeping gesture towards the lobby, which is so empty there may as well be tumbleweeds rolling through. Even their concession stand attendants have been granted a short break due to the stretch of inactivity. “All our demanding customers.”</p>
<p>Luke pretends he’s ignoring Michael, even though he can’t help his lips quirking at the comment. </p>
<p><b>luke: </b>has your mate come by? with your things?</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>yeah, a few minutes ago. I’m all set. and I swore him to secrecy</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>he’s trustworthy so he shouldn’t blab, but just in case I didn’t tell him it’s your house</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>I’m pretty sure he thinks I went absolutely off the rails and bought a suburban home to just, like, hide</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>but I wasn’t about to correct him</p>
<p>Luke laughs again. </p>
<p>“Is it Ashton?” Michael asks. He tips the box of sour patch kids up to get the sugar from the bottom in his mouth.</p>
<p>“That’s disgusting,” Luke says, although he’s guilty of having done the same thing.</p>
<p>Michael licks his lips. “You didn’t answer me, which means it is Ashton.”</p>
<p>Luke glares at Michael. “Are you being helpful?”</p>
<p>“Extremely,” Michael says. “I’m helping you figure out which concessions we need to restock.”</p>
<p>“By <em> eating </em> them.”</p>
<p>“How else could you know?”</p>
<p><em> Counting </em> them, Luke thinks gruffly, but he doesn’t say it, because Michael knows that, and he’s just being a little shit. That should be his official title. Luke Hemmings, General Manager, and Michael Clifford, Assistant Manager and Professional Little Shit.</p>
<p>“Did you talk to him?” Michael pries.</p>
<p>“What are you, my mother? Lay off,” Luke says, more curtly than he means it to come out. He’s still tired; the feeling of waking up from a shitty night’s sleep has not left him. Michael holds his hands up in a <em> don’t shoot </em> gesture.</p>
<p>“Alright, Jesus. You seemed stressed about it yesterday. Sorry for being a good friend.”</p>
<p>He looks really put off. Despite having the sharpest temper of anyone Luke’s ever met, Michael hypocritically hates when people snap at him. Luke knows it comes from a place of insecurity, but still. Michael can be terse with Luke all day to no avail, but one short remark from Luke and Michael’s all wounded-puppy.</p>
<p>Luke sighs. He feels badly anyway, because he loves Michael. “Sorry,” he sighs. “I’m tired. Just, like, you know I’m a grown-up too, right? Like, I can handle myself.”</p>
<p>“Haven’t seen any evidence of that yet,” Michael says, “but okay.”</p>
<p>Luke flips him off. “You’re a dickhead,” he says, which is true even if he doesn’t mean it in the moment. Michael shrugs, and Luke figures he’s forgiven. Spats with Michael don’t last very long, because Luke is a pushover and Michael really loves him. It made it very easy to be housemates, and it makes it easy to be best friends.</p>
<p>“I did talk to him,” Luke says. “I asked him about the wine tree.” Michael raises his eyebrows. Oh, that was a conversation Luke had with Michael-in-his-head. “Uh, I wasn’t sure if I should, like, hide it, or leave it, or what. He said it was fine.” </p>
<p>“Did you ask him about the news stuff?” Michael asks, crouching low to shuffle through the stores of concessions.</p>
<p>“Don’t eat any more snacks or I’ll put you on probation,” he says. Probation’s not a real thing in this business, but Luke has considered instating it for the sole purpose of putting Michael on it. “Yeah. I mean, I asked about the drinking. He told me about, like, being depressed, and — he <em> had </em> an alcohol problem, but he’s a lot better now.”</p>
<p>“Didn’t ask if he’s gay?”</p>
<p>Luke shrugs and feels his cheeks redden. He’s glad Michael is still looking through the shelves. “It didn’t come up. I couldn’t figure out a way to ask that seemed natural. Anyway, it’s, like. Not my business.” </p>
<p>“True,” Michael says, straightening up with a box of Sno-Caps in his hands. “Unless you want to fuck him, as you suggested yesterday.”</p>
<p>“I <em> don’t </em> want to fuck him,” Luke says emphatically. “<em>You </em> suggested that, because you’re disgusting. And don’t you dare eat those.”</p>
<p>Michael makes direct eye contact with Luke as he opens the box of Sno-Caps, reaches in, and eats one. Luke glares at him, wishing he hated Michael so he could just fire him and replace him with someone competent.</p>
<p>“Pay,” he says sternly. Michael rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>“You’re such a bossy boss.”</p>
<p>“You had your freebie,” Luke says, holding out a hand. Michael mutters something that sounds like <em> worst boss ever </em> and pulls out a fiver.</p>
<p>“There,” he says. “Happy?”</p>
<p>Luke nods, self-satisfied. He returns to his chat and types:</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>in fairness, jury's still out whether you DID go off the rails or not</p>
<p>Ashton sends back the emoji of the smiling face with the tongue sticking out, and Luke figures that’s just about the equivalent of a chuckle. He’ll take it.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It starts raining around the time the afternoon rush starts, which only exacerbates the rush. Luke gets summoned to deal with upset customers about five times more than usual, and by the time the onslaught has ended, he’s bone tired. He drifts around in a zombie-like state of post-upset-customer exhaustion for the last hour of his working day.</p>
<p>“Luke.”</p>
<p>Someone’s prodding his shoulder. Luke blinks against the darkness and lifts his head off the concession stand counter. Had he fallen asleep? On the <em> concessions </em> counter? His right hand feels sore from a tense grip, and when he glances over at it, his bleary vision registers a washcloth. </p>
<p>Ah. Fallen asleep <em> wiping down </em> the concessions stand, then. That’s a new low.</p>
<p>“Luke.” The voice is Michael’s. Luke straightens up and stretches. He’s exhausted and irritable. “Luke, wake up,” Michael says a final time. “Cal’s here.”</p>
<p>Fucking Assistant Manager. Luke’s never hated being a step above it more than days like these. Michael gets to clock out at half four, and Calum always comes to pick him up. But Luke has all this paperwork to finish, and he has to call the repair guy because the popcorn machine is squeaking again, and he has to process, like, six refunds for unhappy customers. He rubs a hand against his face and nods, dreading already the stack of order forms he needs to fill out.</p>
<p>“Hey, Luke,” comes Calum’s voice as he wanders into the lobby. “You look awful. Long day?”</p>
<p>“Don’t talk to me,” Luke grumbles. He’s still half-asleep. God, today has been taxing. He strains his ears, and hears the surefire sound of rain still pounding against the roof. Awesome. So now he gets to be absolutely soaked on his way to the bus. “Take your awful boyfriend and leave.”</p>
<p>“That’s no way to talk to the guy who’s going to drive you home,” Calum reprimands him. Luke starts.</p>
<p>“What?” he says. “I don’t leave for another half an hour, at least.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Calum says. “Fortunately for you, I like Skittles.” He hops the concessions counter with absolutely no difficulty. Calum’s athletic like that. The only other person currently present — a day shift concessions attendant named Adam — looks briefly up from his phone, unimpressed, and then returns to it.</p>
<p>“I can’t ask you to do that,” Luke says, although he’d really like to.</p>
<p>Calum gives him a crooked grin. “You’re not asking, idiot. I’m offering. And Michael can’t do anything about it, because I have the car keys.”</p>
<p>“I don’t approve of this, in case you were wondering,” Michael says, crossing his arms over his chest. “I voted to just let you walk in the rain.” When Luke looks at him, though, he’s obviously fighting a small smile, so he can’t be too upset.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Luke says gratefully. </p>
<p>“You’re repaying our time in movie snacks,” Calum says. He pulls out a bag of Skittles and tears the top off.</p>
<p>Whatever. To not have to walk in the rain, Calum can have as many fucking Skittles as he wants.</p>
<p>Luke makes his way to his office in the back, puts on Good Charlotte's <em> The Young and the Hopeless, </em> and, sighing deeply, pulls the first form towards himself.</p>
<p>Time blurs. Or maybe Luke’s vision does. He fills out form after form, and somewhere in there he holds a phone conversation with the repair guy, which goes something like this:</p>
<p>Luke: “Hello?”</p>
<p>Repair guy: “Mr. Hemmings?”</p>
<p>Luke: “...Oh. Yes. I am Mr. Hemmings. I was hoping to have you come take a look at our popcorn machine tomorrow morning before opening.”</p>
<p>Repair guy: “Shouldn’t be a problem. What time?”</p>
<p>Luke (struggling to remember what fucking time his cinema <em> which he manages </em>opens): “Uh. Um. Eight? No. Eight-thirty?”</p>
<p>Repair guy: “Eight-thirty is fine.”</p>
<p>Luke zones out for the rest of the conversation, but he must get through it because eventually the call ends.</p>
<p>He checks his phone. It’s two minutes after five, and Luke is done.</p>
<p>Thank fucking God.</p>
<p>He treks out of his office to the lobby, where the evening shift of concession stand attendants are just clocking in. Luke waves to them, then nods to Calum, who nudges Michael, and the three of them set off.</p>
<p>“Do we finally get to meet Ashton Fletcher?” Michael asks as they get in the car.</p>
<p>Luke doesn’t tell Michael that he’s Ashton <em> Irwin</em>, and will be as long as he’s staying with Luke. “No,” he says. “Never, if I can help it. I’m not scaring him off with you two.”</p>
<p>“Hey! I’m nice,” Calum protests.</p>
<p>“We literally watched the new Bond film together, and you drooled over Ashton the entire time,” Luke says. Michael looks indignant. “Absolutely not.”</p>
<p>“You drooled over Ashton?” Michael asks.</p>
<p>Calum waves him off. “You would have too, if you’d seen him.” (Michael is formally opposed to James Bond as a franchise, for reasons Luke doesn’t care enough to remember, so he’s never seen any of the movies.) Then, to Luke: “You’re saying you don’t think Ashton is hot?”</p>
<p>“That’s not the point,” Luke says, avoiding the question. Obviously Ashton is hot. In fact, Ashton is a whole new level of hot. He’s practically reinvented the category. “I’m not going to introduce you to my <em> childhood best friend </em>if you’re going to try and undress him with your eyes.”</p>
<p>“I’m in a committed relationship,” Calum reminds Luke, as if he wasn’t when they saw the Bond film. “Also, Michael has told me multiple times he would leave me for Jack Barakat.”</p>
<p>“I stand by that,” Michael says. “Wait, would you leave me for Ashton?”</p>
<p>“I wouldn’t leave you for anyone,” Calum says nonchalantly. Luke hears the silent promise underneath it, and Michael must, too, because he leans back into his seat, appeased. “What’s the problem, Luke? Are you saving him?”</p>
<p>“Stop objectifying Ashton,” Luke says.</p>
<p>“Luke has a thing for him,” Michael tells Calum. “He said he wants to fuck him.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t — <em> Michael. </em>” Luke is going to fire him. Seriously. </p>
<p>“I don’t blame you,” Calum says. Luke buries his face in his hands.</p>
<p>“Let me out,” he mumbles. “I’ll just walk home.”</p>
<p>Calum laughs.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Luke doesn’t realize how starving he is until he opens the door to his house and smells food.</p>
<p>Ashton appears from the kitchen, holding a knife in one hand and wearing a black Nirvana t-shirt. Neither Luke nor Michael really listen to Nirvana, which means this one is one of Ashton’s. It fits him well. </p>
<p>“Hey,” Ashton says, lifting the knife in a weird greeting. “I didn’t think you’d be back for a little while.”</p>
<p>“Calum gave me a ride,” he says. “Uh, Mike’s boyfriend.” Even with Calum parking as close to the curb as humanly possible, Luke hadn’t been able to totally avoid the downpour, and his shoulders and hair are speckled with water. He’s crippled by the combination of hunger and fatigue. It’s quarter after five. Hopefully that means Luke has time for a nap before dinner. The realization that dinner is no longer his responsibility almost makes him weep.</p>
<p>Ashton nods. “You look tired,” he says, which is the understatement of the century.</p>
<p>“Longest day of my fucking life,” Luke bites out. “Rainy days. Absolute worst.” Weekends are a different type of rush, one that Luke is equipped to handle, but he hates having a surge of people on a day he’s not expecting it, or emotionally prepared to deal. Like a Thursday. Thursdays are supposed to be chill. Not <em> grueling. </em> “I’m taking a nap. Wake me for dinner.”<br/>Ashton smiles. “Will do,” he says obligingly. “Goodnight.”</p>
<p>“G’night.” Luke kicks his shoes off, traipses to his bedroom, and falls immediately asleep.</p>
<p>Some uncertain amount of time later, he wakes to a gentle touch on his shoulders, and a soft voice. “Luke? If you want dinner…I can just put it in the fridge and —” </p>
<p>Luke grunts and rolls over, facing Ashton head-on. “Hmph,” he says, and then tries again. “Morning. Or whatever time it is.”</p>
<p>“Half six,” Ashton says. “I wanted to let you sleep, but it’s important to keep a consistent eating schedule. Um, so I’ve heard. Sorry.” </p>
<p>“I literally asked you to wake me,” Luke mumbles. “Don’t say sorry. I’ll punch you."</p>
<p>Ashton laughs quietly. "Well, there's spaghetti and meatballs whenever you want them."</p>
<p>"Now," Luke says. "We're having dinner now. I'll be — just give me a second to wake up." </p>
<p>Ashton nods and backs out of the room. Luke sighs heavily. Eating will wake him up. That's how it works.</p>
<p>He grunts, gets out of bed, and makes his way to the kitchen.</p>
<p>"How do you consistently make good food?" Luke asks as he collapses into his seat.</p>
<p>"I don't have much else to do," Ashton says dryly. He puts spaghetti and meatballs onto Luke’s plate. Luke almost faints from how good it looks.</p>
<p>“Well, don’t stop,” he says. “I’ll go shopping twice a week if that’s what it takes.”</p>
<p>“I think one big shopping trip will do it,” Ashton says. There’s a smile in his voice. Luke twirls his fork around and takes a bite out of his meal. “By the way, uh. I meant to talk to you about your. Offer. What you said.”</p>
<p>Luke must look confused, because Ashton, looking unsure of himself, elaborates, “About moving in.”</p>
<p>Luke swallows his food. “Oh,” he says. “Yeah.” He tries to keep his voice neutral. He’s prepared for Ashton to say no. <em> Sorry, Luke, I appreciate the offer, but I have to go back to my celebrity life. Your bachelor pad on Oak Street just isn’t for me. I can’t live with you like we always talked about doing when we were on </em> Sunny Days<em>. </em> That’s a reality Luke can live with. It’s a reality he <em> has </em> lived with, for years, and been just fine. More than fine. He’s successful in his own right. He’s happy.</p>
<p>“I’d be worried about your housemate,” Ashton says carefully. “Michael.”</p>
<p>Ah. So it’s going to be one of <em> those </em> rejections. “Michael lives with Calum,” Luke says, trying not to sound like he’s desperately countering Ashton’s excuse, even though he is. “Like. <em> Lives </em>there. He and Cal drove me home, and then he went with Calum to Calum’s place.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Ashton says. He drags his bottom lip between his teeth. Luke watches him do it. It makes his heart beat harder. Calum’s voice in his head repeats, <em> you’re saying you don’t think Ashton is hot? </em> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Luke says. “So if that’s all you’re worried about, um, don’t. The only reason I say Mike lives here still is because he has to pay rent for another month.”</p>
<p>Ashton taps his fingers against the table, beating out a rhythm. It’s probably a nervous tic, but Luke tries to hear a song in it. “Well, I’ve been thinking a lot about it,” Ashton says diplomatically. “I have, like. People who are expecting me to do things. And places I think I’m supposed to be. It’s very poor celebrity etiquette to just disappear off the face of the earth.” Luke waits for the words<em> thanks, but no thanks</em>. “But,” Ashton says, “I also kind of hate being a celebrity right now. And the world’s still not too big a fan of me, anyway. And I would really, really like to get away from it, for a while. So, um, if the offer still stands…and you’re sure you don’t mind —”  </p>
<p>Luke’s heart stops. “Seriously?” he says. “Really?”</p>
<p>“If you still —”</p>
<p>“Obviously I do,” Luke interrupts. A broad smile is breaking his face open.</p>
<p>“I don’t know how long I’m planning on, like, hiding — or <em> strategically lying low, </em> but…I forgot…I’ve missed you.” Ashton blushes a bit. “I’m not sure if you remember this, but…back in the day, we did plan to move in together, after <em> Sunny Days</em>.”</p>
<p>Luke’s heart skips several beats in succession. “I remember that,” he says, and his voice sounds unfortunately strangled. Ashton either doesn’t notice or does a good job pretending. “Yeah. Two swimming pools.”</p>
<p>“One swimming pool,” Ashton corrects, a smile playing on his lips.</p>
<p>“That was then, this is now,” Luke says. “I want two swimming pools. You think I want to swim in the same pool as you? Be shamed by how fit you are? No thank you.”</p>
<p>Ashton quirks a brow. “How fit I am?”</p>
<p>Fuck. <em> Fuck. </em> “Yeah, like,” Luke says carefully, “physically fit. I haven’t done exercise in more months than I can count on my fingers. Meanwhile you’re out here playing the new Bond.”</p>
<p>“Oh, you saw that,” Ashton says, and drops his face in his hands. “I was hoping when you said you hadn’t been following me it meant you hadn’t seen that movie.”</p>
<p>Luke takes a moment to silently congratulate himself on the epic save and successful change of subject while he snorts a laugh. “At least you know it was terrible,” he says. </p>
<p>“That movie was singlehandedly responsible for me becoming an alcoholic,” Ashton says. Luke’s not sure how much of that is in jest and how much isn’t, but he’s relieved Ashton feels good enough to make jokes like that.</p>
<p>“It wasn’t you,” he says. “Like, you were great. The writing was just awful.”</p>
<p>“No, believe me, I know,” Ashton says. “I almost tried to power trip the execs to fix some of the script up, but honestly I don’t even know where I would’ve started. The whole thing was just cookie-cutter action movie.”</p>
<p>“The love interest really ruined it for me,” Luke says. “I mean, putting Bond with — fuck, I can’t even remember her name — when you <em> clearly </em> had chemistry with the pilot?”</p>
<p>Ashton huffs a laugh. “Chris and I had many laughs over the way the writers unintentionally set up the most homoerotic subplot ever. We tried to see how far we could take it before we got caught. Incidentally, almost everyone working on that film was straight, which meant they picked up on absolutely no homoerotic subtext, so I guess that was my subtle rebellion, making the straightest film ever written as gay as possible.”</p>
<p>Luke wants to laugh, but finds he’s struggling to breathe evenly. He pushes through it and laughs anyway. “Well, Calum and I spent most of the movie yelling at it about that,” he says. That’s a white lie, because mostly it was Luke yelling and Calum countering with points about how good Ashton looked, but Ashton doesn’t need to know that. He tries to swallow air, desperate for something to keep him from asking, but the question spills from his lips before he can stop it. “Um, are you?”</p>
<p>“Am I?” Ashton echoes. Luke’s pretty sure he knows, but fuck it.</p>
<p>“Gay,” he clarifies, feeling his cheeks burning. “Are you?”</p>
<p>Ashton nods, slow and deliberate. “Yeah,” he says. “Another reason the world hates me right now, I think.”</p>
<p>“Oh,” Luke says. He’s staggering under the weight of <em> you might have a chance </em> even though he doesn’t want a chance, Ashton’s just his childhood best friend, Ashton’s not anything, this isn’t anything, it can’t be, it never will be, but now Ashton likes guys and Luke is a guy and he might — maybe — “Me too. I mean. If you were wondering.”</p>
<p>Ashton’s eyes flicker around Luke’s face, and Luke’s mouth is <em> dry. </em> “I was,” he says simply. “Good to know.”</p>
<p><em> Good to know?  </em>What the fuck is that supposed to mean? “Good to know, so I’m not too flirty with you in case you get the wrong idea”? “Good to know, I want to kiss you senseless and now I know you might kiss me back”? Luke’s leaning towards the second one. God, he’s a mess. This is what happens when he doesn’t get a good night’s sleep. Fuck.</p>
<p>“Anyway,” he says hoarsely. He clears his throat. “Um. Anyway. D’you want to, like. Watch a movie? Not Bond.”</p>
<p>Ashton giggles, and just like that, the moment ends. If there even was a moment. Luke pinches himself in the thigh. <em> Get it together, Hemmings. </em></p>
<p>“Sure,” he says. “Let me just clean up.”</p>
<p>“I’ll help,” Luke says. “By the way, I’m leaving for work at eight tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“I’ll be up before then anyway,” Ashton says. “Breakfast will still be served.”</p>
<p>“That’s not — I was just warning you.”</p>
<p>Ashton raises his eyebrows as he clears his place. “So I shouldn’t make breakfast, then?”</p>
<p>“Don’t put words in my mouth,” Luke protests. </p>
<p>Ashton laughs.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>can you tell i wrote this while i was dead tired</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. my favorite color is you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“I’m not pining,” Luke mumbles.</p>
<p>“You so are,” Michael accuses. “Look at you. You’re all red.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>shoutout to my friend on tumblr @ anonymous user for reminding me it's tuesday...remember when i said no update schedule? that was a LIE anyway just a reminder that i love you guys all<br/>trigger warning for depression stuff this is really the only chapter where it's super relevant and it is NOT that bad but i am warning you just in case</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Luke strategically waits until there’s a customer at the window to casually tell Michael, “By the way, Ashton’s moving in. Also, we watched <em> Love, Actually, </em> like you suggested —”</p>
<p>“<em>What? </em>” Michael says incredulously.</p>
<p>Luke pretends he has no idea why Michael’s in shock. He widens his eyes. “Don’t you remember saying we should watch —”</p>
<p>“What do you mean he’s <em> moving in,</em>” Michael hisses. They’re behind a ticketing window that’s closed, but thankfully Michael has enough presence of mind not to shout while there’s a customer literally three metres away. </p>
<p>“Exactly that,” Luke says. “He’s a fugitive from a life of celebrity, and he’s taking your room.”</p>
<p>“I haven’t even fully moved out of my room!” Michael exclaims. “You can’t just replace me with Ashton.”</p>
<p>“Why not? He’s a much better cook.”</p>
<p>“His hair’s so much less exciting, though.” Michael scrubs a hand over his face. “Is this serious? Ashton’s, like, moving in? Do you mean he’s staying until he’s sorted out?”</p>
<p>“No,” Luke says, although he’s not sure, really. If there’s a significant difference between Ashton <em> moving in </em> and <em> staying until he’s sorted out, </em> Luke has yet to identify it; Ashton was up making breakfast this morning the same as the first two. Nothing’s different, really. Except Luke’s not worried anymore that Ashton will cut and run at any moment. “He’s going to live there.”</p>
<p>“How is that supposed to work out? You know he’s, like, one of the most expensive actors in the world right now? His net worth is probably, like, a billion.”</p>
<p>“That’s a bit much,” Luke says. “He’s ignoring the world. You said it yourself, they hate him. You think he doesn’t know that? So he’s staying with me.”</p>
<p>“Hmm,” Michael hums. “Is he down to fuck?”</p>
<p>“<em>Michael</em>.” Luke turns red.</p>
<p>“Oh, excuse me,” Michael says, side-eyeing the customer, who’s walking past them on the way to her movie. “Is he interested in having sexual relations with you?”</p>
<p>“That’s worse,” Luke says. “You’re disgusting. Never speak again.”</p>
<p>“You’re avoiding my question! Wait, are <em> you </em> down to fuck? You have to tell me if you’re crushing on Ashton Fletcher. Legally,” Michael says, looking altogether too pleased at the concept.</p>
<p>“Can you not call him Ashton Fletcher?” Luke says. “It’s weird.”</p>
<p>“That’s his <em> name, </em> mate.”</p>
<p>“His name is Ashton Fletcher Irwin. Surname Irwin. He just used Fletcher because maybe he thought it had a better ring to it.”</p>
<p>“And he was right,” Michael says. “Stop deflecting. I’m not making fun, Luke, but seriously. If you’re, like, pining after him, it’s going to make living together very difficult.”</p>
<p>“I’m not pining,” Luke mumbles.</p>
<p>“You so are,” Michael accuses. “Look at you. You’re all red.”</p>
<p>“I’m going to fire you one of these days,” Luke says, wishing he meant it.</p>
<p>“You will not,” Michael says. “Luke. Look me in the face and tell me you don’t have a crush on Ashton.”</p>
<p>Luke looks Michael in the face and tries his best, but it’s impossible to lie to Michael when his eyes are that sincere<em>. </em></p>
<p>“I have a crush on Ashton,” he mutters. His face falls into his hands. “Fuck, Michael! This is the worst possible scenario! How can I have a crush on him? I haven’t seen him in fifteen years!”</p>
<p>“I <em> knew </em> it,” Michael crows. “God, this is, like, the perfect love story. Reunited after a long separation. Childhood friendship rekindled into something more.”</p>
<p>“Don’t journalize my friendship with Ashton,” Luke says, exasperated. “It’s not a rekindled love story or <em> anything. </em> He’s Ashton Irwin, Michael. He’s Ashton <em> Fletcher. </em> Do you know how many hot famous guys he knows? How many hot famous guys he probably has saved to his contacts? How many hot famous guys he’s probably slept with? Even if Ashton <em> weren’t </em> famous and my childhood best friend, my chances would be laughably slim. But he <em> is </em> famous and he probably sees me as, like, a little brother, on account of how I was <em> nine years old </em> last time we spoke, so now my chances are at a literal zero.”</p>
<p>Michael rolls his eyes. “You’re such a drama queen. You don’t think Calum isn’t way too good for me?”</p>
<p>“I already know he is,” Luke says. “Every day I question your relationship.”</p>
<p>Michael flips him off. “Love isn’t about standards or leagues or any of that shit. It’s about who you fall in love with while you’re living with him in your quest to erase yourself from the eyes of the general public.” He nods, as if he’s being really wise, instead of just spouting bullshit.</p>
<p>“That’s the most useless advice I’ve ever been given,” Luke says. “Have you brought the cash to the bank yet?”</p>
<p>“I’m trying to be a supportive friend,” Michael says, affronted.</p>
<p>“Instead you’re being useless, as usual.” Luke points at the register. “Cash. Bank.”</p>
<p>“You can run from your feelings, but you can’t hide from me!”</p>
<p>Luke can do his best on both counts, though.</p>
<p>(It is unfortunately true that Luke cannot hide from Michael, but that doesn’t mean he won’t try.)</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Michael is wrong about a lot of things, but this, Luke realizes quickly, he’s right about.</p>
<p>It’s fine at first. Luke’s had a lot of training keeping his feelings under wraps. Ashton continues waking up at ungodly hours and making breakfast, and they text sporadically throughout the day to check in with each other, and Luke starts to feel like Ashton’s been in his life this whole time. It’s a good feeling. Sometimes they watch movies, but more often than not Ashton will sit on the sofa and read while Luke plays Final Fantasy X with Michael. Ashton says being an actor has made him the kind of person to hate most movies, because he watches them from an actor perspective, which Luke can appreciate. Ashton also discovers the basement one day while Luke is at work ("You've had guitars this whole time and didn't say?") and now spends a lot of time down there while Luke's not home.</p>
<p>For about a week and a half, Luke doesn’t think about it at all. And then he walks in on Ashton, shirtless.</p>
<p>Actually, Ashton is making breakfast while shirtless, and it is eight o’clock in the morning, and Luke’s just woken up. And Ashton is <em> not wearing a shirt. </em></p>
<p>“Good morning,” Ashton says, like he does every morning. He does not acknowledge the fact that he’s not wearing a shirt. Luke, who has habitually begun putting a shirt on before leaving his room in the morning, has never felt more inadequate and attracted to someone, in equal parts.</p>
<p>Okay, that’s a lie. He’s mostly just wishing he could do <em> sinful </em> things to Ashton right now.</p>
<p>“Morning,” Luke rasps, hoping Ashton will attribute his hoarse voice to having just woken up, instead of the way his mouth has dried up staring at the vast, smooth expanse of Ashton’s back, rippling with pure muscle when he moves his arm to break up the eggs in the pan. Jesus.</p>
<p>“Sleep well?” Ashton asks, oblivious to the car wreck going on in Luke’s brain. He turns around, and Luke immediately looks down at his feet. He’s not sure he can handle shirtless Ashton this early in the morning. Since when does he not wear a shirt? Why didn’t he <em> warn Luke? </em></p>
<p>“Yeah,” Luke says. “I’m — gotta get dressed.”</p>
<p>“Oh, me too,” Ashton says, laughing a bit, as if only just realizing he’s not wearing anything above his waist. Luke is dead set on <em> not looking. </em> He’s 100% positive he cannot deal with it. (He really, really, really, <em> really </em> wants to, though.) “Woke up without a shirt on. One of those weird dreams, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Guess so,” Luke says. And then he books it back to his bedroom and texts Michael and Calum.</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>hes NOT. WEARING. A SHIRT.</p>
<p><b>calum: </b>is he super fit</p>
<p><b>calum: </b>send pics</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>there are probably thousands of shirtless pictures of him online just google it</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>THIS IS AN IMMEDIATE ISSUE i walked into the kitchen and LOST THE ABILITY TO SPEAK</p>
<p><b>michael: </b>god you are so gay</p>
<p><b>michael: </b>it’s embarrassing</p>
<p><b>michael: </b>im in a committed gay relationship and im embarrassed to be associated with how gay you’re being</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>i will literally fire you for homophobia</p>
<p><b>michael: </b>just fucking tell him to put on a shirt</p>
<p><b>michael: </b>youre the most useless person on the planet</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>im going to be best friends with calum instead</p>
<p><b>calum: </b>fine but just so you know i’m using you to get at ashton</p>
<p><b>calum: </b>actually i should probably stop thirsting over him since it’s in violation of the bro code</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>there are so many reasons you should stop thirsting over him but whatever it takes</p>
<p><b>calum: </b>i’m going to think of a tagline for this</p>
<p><b>calum: </b>like bros before hoes but for us and ashton</p>
<p><b>calum: </b>lifetime bond before james bond</p>
<p><b>michael: </b>keep working babe</p>
<p>Luke turns his phone off, takes a deep breath, and gets dressed.</p>
<p>(Ashton has put a shirt on when he walks out, thank <em> God. </em>Luke doesn’t get the image of Ashton’s back, tan and even and taut with muscle, out of his head for weeks.)</p>
<p>A couple days later, Luke locates his lip ring. It's been on his side table the whole time, apparently, but Luke has been worried about the hole closing up, and he thinks the cinema can manage a regular Wednesday for once while Luke puts the lip ring back in. It only takes him a moment to readjust to the feeling of metal in his mouth, and then it's familiar, almost comforting. He heads for the kitchen, where Ashton is mercifully fully clothed and, as usual, making breakfast. Not eggs, this time. Luke sniffs the air as he wanders into the kitchen, and the bowl of batter next to the stove confirms his suspicion.</p>
<p>"Good morning," Ashton says. He turns around as he greets Luke, smiling.</p>
<p>"Morning," Luke says. "Pancakes?"</p>
<p>Ashton stares at him, wordlessly. Luke squints. "Ash?" </p>
<p>"Um. Right." Ashton clears his throat. "Pancakes? Yes. Pancakes. I figured it was time to mix it up."</p>
<p>"I'm not complaining," Luke says, grinning. Ashton's eyes haven't left Luke's face. Luke starts to wonder if something is wrong.</p>
<p>Finally, Ashton turns back to the griddle, and Luke pulls together his work stuff while Ashton finishes setting up breakfast. He fiddles unconsciously with the lip ring. He had it for almost all four years of uni, but he took it out very soon after becoming manager, and that was almost a year ago now. It's just a little weird, is all.</p>
<p>"Is there chocolate in these?" Luke asks as they sit down to eat. "Because if not, I might have to kick you out." </p>
<p>"There is in some of them," Ashton says. "I compromised with the mental argument I had with you before you woke up."</p>
<p>For some reason, Luke finds that endlessly endearing. It's fucking <em> sweet</em>, that is; Ashton had actually thought about Luke, and made the pancakes with him in mind. Luke tries not to blush at the smallest things, but the heat in his cheeks means he's failed. He fidgets with the lip ring with his tongue, bashful.</p>
<p>Ashton's voice sounds slightly tighter when he says, "So, you have a lip ring."</p>
<p>Luke glances up. "Yeah," he says, and takes a bite of his pancake, which is bad planning because then he continues talking. "Had it awhile," he swallows, "but I took it out when I became manager. Like, I didn't want to give the wrong impression, you know?"</p>
<p>"Mm." Ashton's doing the staring thing again, and it's making Luke's chest fill with butterflies or otherwise winged, angry creatures.</p>
<p>"Yeah," he says, a little breathless under the intensity of Ashton's gaze. "But, uh, I. I just remembered I had it, and I missed wearing it. I think the cinema can handle it for a day."</p>
<p>Ashton nods.</p>
<p>"Do you like it?" Luke asks, recklessly. He shouldn't, but he does, because Ashton is staring staring staring and he must be thinking something, and Luke's stomach feels full of fire. It's too early to be having this many feelings.</p>
<p>Ashton finally meets Luke's eyes, which gives Luke the newfound realization that he was staring elsewhere before, probably, Luke guesses with a thrill, at his lips. Or the lip ring, at least. "Like it?" he echoes. "Yeah. It's, uh. Very punk."</p>
<p>Luke can't help but feel disappointed. It <em> is </em> punk, to be fair, but Ashton has just practically stared a hole into Luke's face because he thinks it's <em> punk</em>?</p>
<p>Fine. It's fine. "You know me," Luke says, "the embodiment of punk."</p>
<p>"Naturally," Ashton says. He shakes his head a bit, and Luke wonders about that, but doesn't wonder for too long before Ashton's changing the subject.</p>
<p>(Michael whistles appreciatively when Luke comes into work wearing the lip ring. "Finally, you look hot again."</p>
<p>Luke rolls his eyes, weirdly pleased.)</p>
<p>On Thursday, Luke drives to work, because it's raining again and he hasn't driven all month and he feels he's earned it after the month he's had. When his day ends, he drives himself home. It's a relatively easy Thursday, and Luke feels light with the knowledge that tomorrow is Friday, and he probably won't have to go in on the weekend. Yet another perk of being the manager; weekends off. Maybe Calum and Michael can come over and play Fifa. The three of them haven't hung out in what feels like forever. Luke will have to ask Ashton if he would mind having them here. Luke could always go over to Calum's, but Calum's XBox malfunctions so often it may as well be broken. </p>
<p>He lets himself in. Nobody greets him, and Luke's strangely disappointed by it. He's come to look forward to Ashton saying <em> how was the day?, </em>standing in the doorway of the kitchen or sometimes lying on the couch, reading.</p>
<p>"Hello?" Luke says tentatively. No response. Luke tilts his head. He can hear noise floating up from downstairs. Ashton must be in the basement, then. Luke pushes off his shoes and pads down the stairs. The sound of a guitar being strummed grows louder. When he gets to the bottom of the stairs, Ashton has stopped playing and is looking at him, partially embarrassed.</p>
<p>"Oh, hey," he says. "I didn't think you'd be back for a little while."</p>
<p>"I drove," Luke says. "I didn't know you play guitar."</p>
<p>"I don't," Ashton says quickly, although Luke can pretty clearly see that he does. "I mean, I learned a few things, but I'm really rusty and haven't played in a long time." He gestures. "You still play, though, right?"</p>
<p>"Yeah," Luke says, taking hold of the electric and sitting down on the bottom step. He fools around on the fretboard, making a riff with the first notes that come to mind, and grins. "I haven't played in awhile either."</p>
<p>"Yeah, right," Ashton says. “Like anyone out of practice could pull that out of nowhere.” <em> That </em> meaning the riff, probably. Luke blushes.</p>
<p>“I am,” he insists. “It’s been — I haven’t played since you got here.”</p>
<p>“Well, play something now,” Ashton says, holding out a hand, inviting.</p>
<p>Luke is tempted not to — he does feel out of practice — but Ashton looks so hopeful, and Luke is weak. He’s <em> weak</em>.</p>
<p>“Uh,” he says, “okay.”</p>
<p>He can remember the two of them listening to blink-182, way back when, and hopes Ashton still likes them. He starts strumming the chords for “I Miss You,” which doesn’t sound as good on an unplugged electric as it would on the acoustic, but Ashton’s got hold of the acoustic right now and, well. It’s not that Luke has a particular attraction to boys with guitars, but if he does, that’s his business.</p>
<p>“Hello there,” he begins, “the angel from my nightmare.”</p>
<p>Ashton smiles, a distant look in his eyes, and Luke tries not to watch his expression as he sings, tries to look anywhere else. Luke could play this song in his sleep. Looking at the fretboard will just throw him off. </p>
<p>He looks at his feet for most of the song, and only when he’s on the last <em> I miss you </em> does he look up at Ashton. It might be a mistake. Ashton’s face is slack with — it can’t be adoration, but on anyone else, it would be. Luke feels all the blood rush to his face.</p>
<p>“Your voice is amazing,” Ashton tells him, softly. “That was amazing.”</p>
<p>“It’s just normal,” Luke says uncomfortably. “You play.”</p>
<p>Ashton laughs. “No way, mate. If I thought I was shit before, there’s absolutely no way I’m playing now.”</p>
<p>“What? You just manipulated me! I thought we were doing a trade.”</p>
<p>“It is a trade,” Ashton says, setting the acoustic back on the stand. “You play music for me, and in return I make dinner.”</p>
<p>Luke pouts. “That’s not fair.”</p>
<p>“Feels fair to me,” Ashton says. “Unless you want to make dinner yourself.”</p>
<p>“I can make pasta,” Luke tries. Ashton makes a gesture, like <em> be my guest, </em> and Luke sighs. “Fine, I can’t make pasta.”</p>
<p>Ashton ruffles Luke’s hair as he passes. The touch sends a shock of electricity down Luke’s scalp. “I’ll start dinner.”</p>
<p>Luke tries to say <em> thanks, </em> but all he can manage is a halfway nod.</p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>On Friday, by some miracle, Luke wakes up bright and early to his first alarm. He stretches and gets out of bed, then shuffles into the kitchen, a good morning greeting to Ashton already on his lips.</p>
<p>But the kitchen is empty.</p>
<p>Luke frowns, and rubs his eyes, but he’s definitely awake, and the kitchen is still barren.</p>
<p>So that’s strange.</p>
<p>Part of Luke wonders if he should, like, check on Ashton — maybe he’s not feeling well? — but it’s also entirely possible that the man just needs some sleep. Luke would. The door to Michael’s  (Ashton’s?) room is kind of creaky, and Luke doesn’t want to open it in case it wakes Ashton.</p>
<p>He’ll just text him, Luke decides, and Ashton can reply when he wakes up. It’s fine. He’s more than earned the right to sleep in.</p>
<p>Luke has cereal for breakfast, which tastes unfortunately stale, and then gathers his things and heads out to the bus. As it trundles along down the road, Luke sends a text to Ashton.</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>are you feeling okay? you weren’t awake when I left but I didn’t want to wake you by opening your door</p>
<p>Then he pockets his phone, leans his head against the window, and zones out until he arrives at the cinema. </p>
<p>It’s a pretty standard Friday, and Luke checks his phone enough times that Michael starts accusing him of watching porn, but there’s no reply for most of the day. Then, at four o’clock, while Luke is trying to sort out shift schedules for the next week, his phone buzzes on the desk. Luke almost breaks his wrist reaching for it.</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>im fine. sorry</p>
<p>And. Well. Ashton’s definitely alive, so that’s a reassurance, but beyond that, Luke is worried. </p>
<p><b>luke: </b>don’t be sorry haha</p>
<p><b>luke: </b>are you sure? i can pick up something on the way home if you need</p>
<p><b>ashton: </b>no thanks. im okay</p>
<p>Luke frowns. It’s not like his internal compass is <em> always </em> right, but something feels wrong. With Ashton.</p>
<p>Luke is majorly unproductive for the next hour, and Michael pokes fun at him exactly once before catching sight of his face.</p>
<p>“Woah,” he says. “Is everything okay?”</p>
<p>Luke sighs. “I don’t know. Ashton’s being weird.”</p>
<p>“Weird how?”</p>
<p>Luke shakes his head. “I don’t know. I’m just worried.”</p>
<p>“You can leave whenever you want, you know,” Michael points out, even though that’s very much not true. </p>
<p>“That kind of attitude is why I’m the manager,” Luke grumbles. Michael rolls his eyes.</p>
<p>When five o’clock rolls around, Luke loses no time leaving, and his knee bounces the whole way home. He pushes open the door to his house and calls out, “Ash?”</p>
<p>No reply. </p>
<p>“Ashton?” Luke repeats, trying not to sound desperately concerned. This time there’s a faint “Yeah?” from Ashton’s room.</p>
<p>(When did it become Ashton’s room?)</p>
<p>Luke follows the noise and steps carefully into the room, where Ashton is curled up in bed, on his phone. The lights are off, and Ashton is in the Good Charlotte tour shirt.</p>
<p>“Have you left your bed today?” Luke asks, in a half-whisper.</p>
<p>Ashton casts his eyes over to Luke. “I went to the bathroom,” he says.</p>
<p>“I see.” Luke approaches the bed and sits at the end. “Um…are you okay?”</p>
<p>Ashton groans and buries half of his face in his pillow. “Yes. I’m fine.”</p>
<p>“Not to be an asshole, but I don’t really believe you.”</p>
<p>“I <em> will </em> be fine,” Ashton corrects, bitterly. “I just.”</p>
<p>Luke waits. When Ashton goes back to scrolling on his phone, Luke prompts, “You just?”</p>
<p>“I just don’t want to get up,” Ashton mumbles.</p>
<p>Luke bites his lip.  “Did you take your meds?” he asks hesitantly.</p>
<p>“No,” Ashton says, and <em> oh</em>. “My alarm didn’t go off. So my whole schedule is fucked up. I — I’ll just take them tomorrow.”</p>
<p>That’s not really how meds work, but Luke’s sure judgement is the last thing Ashton needs right now, so instead he says, “What can I do?”</p>
<p>Ashton finally turns his phone off and tosses it on the bedside table. He turns over, giving Luke a clear picture of the rumpled sleep clothes and mussed-up hair that he’s probably been sporting since he woke up, whenever that was. Luke’s heart stumbles over its own rhythm.</p>
<p>“Nothing,” Ashton says, and then groans furiously and presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “I don’t know. Nothing. I’ve been sitting here for <em> seven hours, </em> trying to convince myself to get off Twitter and do something useful. I hate this. I don’t — I hate it.”</p>
<p>“You’re not a workhorse, Ash,” Luke reminds him, as gentle as he can. “You’re just a person.”</p>
<p>“Pretty shitty excuse for a person,” Ashton says, although he sounds more mad at himself than Luke. “It’s not enough that I’m hiding from the entire world, I also have to hide from the house? I haven’t left this <em> bed</em>, Luke. All day. What the fuck use am I?”</p>
<p>“People don’t suddenly stop being people when they stop being productive,” Luke says. “Your worth isn’t measured by how <em> useful </em>you are.” </p>
<p>Ashton sighs, then, long and weary, the kind that builds up pressure in your chest and makes it hard to breathe. “I know that,” he says quietly. “I mean, I usually know that. I — I’m trying to remember it. It’s hard. I feel useless. I should be doing more. I’m already a freeloader in your house.”</p>
<p>“Stop it,” Luke says. “Ashton. You’re not a fucking freeloader, you’re my <em> friend</em>, and you’re here because I want you here, and you want to be here. You don’t have to do anything. You’ll <em> never </em> have to do anything. We’re not conditional friends. Stay in bed for a week if you need. It’s not about whether or not you’re useful. You’re valuable as a person, as someone I care about.” He stares Ashton down until Ashton relents, scrubbing a hand over his face and through his hair.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Sorry.”</p>
<p>“Don’t be.”</p>
<p>“I — I’m normally not,” Ashton gestures vaguely. “You know.”</p>
<p>“It’s okay,” Luke says, because it is, and it’s also not Ashton’s fault anyway. Luke would have to be a real prick to get upset over it.</p>
<p>“You don’t have to sit here and feel sorry for me,” Ashton says, with a humorless laugh. “I’ll probably just go back to sleep or something. Tomorrow I’ll be better.”</p>
<p>“I can leave if you want me to,” Luke says. “But I can stay, also. If you want. I don’t have anything else to do tonight.” </p>
<p>Ashton studies him. “You don’t have to.”</p>
<p>“Stop telling me about my rights as a free man,” Luke says. “I know I don’t have to. I’m asking if you want me to.”</p>
<p>There’s a moment of quiet, and Luke tries not to stare too much at Ashton, tries not to blurt out <em> I love that you still sleep in my Good Charlotte shirt </em> or something to that effect.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Ashton says finally. “I mean, yes. Stay.”</p>
<p>Luke smiles. “I can get my laptop and we can watch something, if you like,” he says.</p>
<p>“<em>The Office? </em>” Ashton asks hopefully.</p>
<p>Luke huffs. “Only because I’m your favorite friend named Luke in the world,” he says. He kind of hates <em> The Office</em>, but whatever. “Be right back.”</p>
<p>When he returns with his laptop, Ashton has kicked the covers down, and motions to them when Luke tilts his head. “What, you don’t want to get under the covers? It’s much cozier.”</p>
<p><em> I don’t think being under the same duvet as you is a good idea for me, </em> Luke doesn’t say. “Ah,” is what he does say. “Smart.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Ashton says. As Luke shifts around and opens up Netflix, Ashton continues, “Um, in general, I mean. For this. Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Stop thanking me,” Luke says automatically. He looks over at Ashton, whose cheeks are pink, and says, “You know I’m here for you, right? Anytime you need.”</p>
<p>Ashton leans back against his pillows, and Luke leans too, which puts them shoulder-to-shoulder and sends electricity arcing up Luke’s right side. “Yeah,” Ashton says. “You’re probably my favorite friend in the world, actually.”</p>
<p>“I don’t believe you,” Luke says, over the sound of his heart trying to outpace a racehorse, thumping hard enough to feel it in his skull. “You know Chris Pine.” </p>
<p>“Okay, second favorite friend,” Ashton says.</p>
<p>Luke gasps. “That was a trap! You’re supposed to lie!”</p>
<p>Ashton actually laughs, a little bit. Luke can’t help but feel accomplished.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>second quick reminder that i adore everyone who has read this fic and ESPECIALLY those who have left comments yall are my lifeblood OKAY BYE it's 2am</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. can i finally feel something again</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>When Luke tentatively asks Ashton about having Mike and Calum round to play Fifa on Sunday, Ashton nods enthusiastically, citing that if they’re friends of Luke’s, they’re friends of his. Luke warns Ashton that both of them are total shitheads, but Ashton just seems amused.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>SORRYYYYY FOR THE DELAY god what a busy day i woke up around noon officially and then had to drive my brother someplace and then had to go hang out with a cat and then i came home and had tea w my grandma on facetime and THEN i watched the entire where we are live from san siro stadium concert movie which was fuckin phenomenal genuinely enjoyed that and then we had dinner and then we watched harry potter and the goblet of fire so all of which to say i really just did not have time to upload this chapter earlier AND i wouldve done it last night but i was already up til like 4am writing the prompt fics that are over on my tumblr which i think is linked at the endnotes so this is a really long winded apology but i hope you will forgive me because this chapter contains some good stuff if you ask me also sorry it is short but there was no way around it ALRIGHT enough about me, onward, enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Luke tentatively asks Ashton about having Mike and Calum round to play Fifa on Sunday, Ashton nods enthusiastically, citing that if they’re friends of Luke’s, they’re friends of his. Luke warns Ashton that both of them are total shitheads, but Ashton just seems amused.</p><p>Which is how Calum and Michael end up in the living room at noon on Sunday. </p><p>“I’m Ashton,” is how Ashton greets them. Luke admires the way he acts so casually, when Calum has clearly yet to find his voice and Michael looks like he’s taking a visual scan of Ashton to send to a lab for analysis. Many people are either intimidated or immediately offended by Michael from the moment they meet him, but Ashton’s smile is sunny as ever. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve heard many stories.”</p><p>“Nice to finally meet you as well,” Michael says. “Luke literally hasn’t shut up about you.” Luke kicks him in the shin, and Michael glares at him. “I’m Michael,” he finishes.</p><p>Ashton glances at Luke, looks as if he’s going to say something, and then doesn’t. “And you’re Calum?” he says instead, to Calum. Calum grins broadly.</p><p>“I am,” he says. “I feel like I should say this right off the bat in case it’ll cause a rift in our potential relationship: your movie was awful.”</p><p>“Oh, I know,” Ashton says, although Calum hasn’t said which one. Luke wonders if Ashton thinks all of his movies are awful. (They’re not <em> all. </em> Just…most.) “The Bond one? Yeah, I’m with you.”</p><p>“You were good, though,” Calum hastily revises. </p><p>“That’s what Luke said,” Ashton says. “Do you guys talk about me behind my back?”</p><p>Even though the answer is a hard and fast <em> yes, literally every day, </em> Ashton is clearly joking. </p><p>“I bet he did,” Michael says, smirking. Luke kicks him again. “Stop kicking me, you dick!”</p><p>“I thought you were into this,” Luke says, which is why he stops. </p><p>“Oh my god, can you not bring up kinks for literally <em> five seconds</em>,” Michael says. “I can embarrass you so much more easily.”</p><p>“You don’t know any of my kinks,” Luke says.</p><p>“That’s what you think,” Michael says ominously. “You live with someone as long as we’ve lived together and you learn a few things.”</p><p>The implications of that comment are absolutely horrifying, but it strikes Luke that this is a terrible way to introduce Ashton to his friends. He turns, but Ashton only looks amused and intrigued.</p><p>“Don’t stop on my account,” he says. “I’m filing all this away so I can humiliate you all later when you least expect it.”</p><p>Calum snorts. “Okay,” he says to Luke. “He can stay.”</p><p>“No,” Luke whines. “Get him out of here. He keeps eating my food and he doesn’t even play Fifa.”</p><p>“He doesn’t play <em> Fifa? </em>” Michael shouts. Ashton winces.</p><p>“Apparently that’s a crime I wasn’t aware I had committed.”</p><p>“Don’t let Luke give you shit,” Michael says, making his way over to the couch. The three of them follow. “If you weren’t here, he’d have starved to death by now.”</p><p>“That’s been made very clear to me,” Ashton says.</p><p>“You’re not forgiven about Fifa though,” Michael says. “What, are you too busy being in awful action films to play one of the greatest video games ever created?”</p><p>“Something like that.”</p><p>Luke wants to yell at Michael, <em> stop poking fun at his career, </em> but if anything, Ashton seems relieved that it’s being made fun of. Luke supposes it’s better than hero worship. He bites his tongue and allows Michael to be Michael.</p><p>“Some of your films aren’t awful,” Calum says generously as he falls onto the center couch cushion. Michael immediately settles into his left side, and Luke sits on the far right, slumping back against the pillows. “I liked the one from, uh, about the time travel.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t call that <em> my </em> film,” Ashton says, settling himself on the right armrest of the couch. “That was mostly Jennifer.”</p><p>“<em>Jennifer, </em>” Calum echoes reverently, like it’s unspeakably cool that Ashton is on a first-name basis with Jennifer Lawrence. It kind of is, but Luke’s not, like, some huge movie buff (ironic for the manager of a cinema), so he doesn’t feel anything in particular about Jennifer Lawrence.</p><p>“Why are you on the arm rest?” he asks, tilting his head to look up at Ashton. “There’s plenty of room.”</p><p>He shifts over, pushing Calum into Michael and Michael into the other end of the couch, and pats the space beside him. When Ashton looks skeptical, Luke takes the initiative, grabbing his sleeve and tugging. Ashton, unbalanced, falls with zero grace into the couch, halfway leaning against Luke, pressed together from shoulder to wrist. The touch makes Luke’s skin feel hot, every point of contact like pinpricks of fire. Ashton leans away from him.</p><p>“Sorry,” he says. “I mean, I shouldn’t be, because you just pulled me onto the couch.”</p><p>“If Michael gets to sit on the couch, you do,” Luke says. “Mike hasn’t even lived here in, like, three weeks.”</p><p>“I can’t wait to officially move out,” Michael says, which somehow sounds like a threat coming from his mouth. </p><p>“Oh,” Ashton says. “You’re actually moving out?”</p><p>“Yup,” Michael says. “Moving in with Cal, so actually you showed up just in the nick of time. Luke doesn’t do well on his own. One more week and he probably would’ve been rewatching <em> How I Met Your Mother</em>, neck-deep in ramen noodles by now.”</p><p>“I do fine on my own,” Luke argues, in vain. That’s kind of a lie, and everyone in the room knows, but when Luke glances over at Ashton there’s a smile playing at Ashton’s mouth, and he looks charming and charmed, and Luke figures it isn’t so bad if he feels he’s needed, actually.</p><p>Michael digs an elbow into Calum’s ribcage. “Set up the game, you idiot.”</p><p>“Is it <em> my </em> gaming system? You set it up,” Calum huffs.</p><p>“Luke,” Michael says, and Luke immediately puts a finger on his nose. Calum and Ashton quickly follow suit. “You guys are all terrible,” Michael proclaims. “Cal, I’m breaking up with you.”</p><p>“You wish,” Calum says.</p><p>Luke turns to Ashton and explains, unnecessarily, “They break up roughly every five minutes, so don’t be alarmed.”</p><p>“Not alarmed,” Ashton says. “Just amused.”</p><p>“One of these days it’ll stick,” Michael says gruffly. Calum puts a hand on the nape of Michael’s neck and presses a gentle kiss to his mouth. </p><p>“Not if I have anything to do with it,” he says lightly. Michael looks a little dazed. “Go set up the game,” Calum adds.</p><p>“You can’t just kiss me and then expect me to bend to your will,” Michael complains, which is pretty rich, because he’s already standing up and walking towards the game system.</p><p>“D’you think that would work if I tried it?” Luke asks, even though there’s no way you could <em> pay </em> him to kiss Michael. “Could be useful, considering he’s the worst assistant manager on the planet.”</p><p>“Hey! Is it throw-Michael-under-the-bus o’clock?”</p><p>“It always is,” Luke says. Michael throws the case of the game disc at him, and Luke ducks, shrieking inelegantly. </p><p>“I think if anything, you’d have the element of surprise,” Ashton puts in, and all three of them look at him. He seems to waver under their gazes. “Um, like. I mean, if you just planted one on Michael and then asked him to do something? No offense, Michael.”</p><p>“None taken,” Michael says, looking altogether too delighted by the turn this conversation has taken. “I’d love to know if that does work, actually, especially on someone you’re not involved with. You should try it.”</p><p>Ashton furrows his brows. “Um…on you? I — I don’t think I know you well enough —”</p><p>“Not me,” Michael says, rolling his eyes.</p><p>“Michael,” Luke says, warning in his voice. “Ignore him, Ash, he’s being stupid. As usual.”</p><p>“I’m just saying,” Michael says, but thankfully doesn’t actually end up saying what he’s <em> just saying</em>, because Calum interjects.</p><p>“Dibs on Messi,” he says. Luke shoots him a grateful look, but whether Calum jumped in to save Luke’s dignity or just to move the game along is unclear, because Calum doesn’t look at him. Michael, however, immediately begins arguing that Calum can’t always have Messi, just because he thinks he’s <em> hot, </em> to which Calum replies that if he thought Messi were hot then why the fuck would he be dating Michael of all people, the most <em> different- </em>looking person from Messi on the planet, and maybe Calum’s just a strategic player.</p><p>(Calum <em> is </em> a strategic player, and out of the three of them he’s the best at Fifa, but Michael and Luke will die before admitting that.)</p><p>Michael harasses Ashton endlessly, but it’s not until Luke says, “Come on, Ash, just play one game, I’ll help you,” that Ashton agrees to play. He sucks at it (no surprise) but seems to enjoy himself nonetheless. Luke tries not to touch Ashton while helping him, because every time their hands brush his motor functions momentarily stop working, but there’s only so much he can do when they’re sitting right next to each other. Ashton misses many obvious goals, and Luke wants to apologize, say <em> sorry, it’s just I’m trying not to touch you because you short-circuit my brain, and it’s hard enough feeling like my skin is still on fire from when you accidentally fell on top of me earlier</em>. He keeps his mouth shut, and instead offers Ashton many apologetic smiles.</p><p>“I don’t think I like Fifa any more now than I did before,” Ashton says when they finish the game. Calum whoops at the score (Calum: ridiculously high, Ashton/Luke: embarrassingly low). “But I can start dinner, if you want.”</p><p>“No,” Luke says. He doesn’t want Ashton to leave the room, doesn’t want to have to choose between keeping Ashton company in the kitchen or playing Fifa with Mike and Cal. He’s afraid he’ll choose Ashton, and he’s not sure what that says about him, and altogether he’d rather not think about it. “We’ll order pizza.”</p><p>“<em>Hell </em> yeah!” Michael crows. “I’ll call.”</p><p>“No Hawaiian,” Calum says loudly, but Michael’s already leapt to his feet, smirking. Calum immediately springs up and gives chase, and the two of them disappear into Michael’s room. Luke knows there’s no avoiding Michael getting Hawaiian pizza. He’s also pretty confident that Michael and Calum will be in there for longer than it takes to order pizza.</p><p>Ashton smiles at Luke. “Wow. Choosing pizza over home cooking? Fair enough.”</p><p>“Nah,” Luke says. A rush of courage surges through him, and he says, “Keeping you here instead of letting you fuck off to the kitchen.”</p><p>Ashton tilts his head, studying Luke. “What for?”</p><p>“What for?” Luke repeats. “I like your company.”</p><p>Ashton swallows. Luke’s eyes follow the movement of his Adam’s apple. “Oh,” Ashton says. “Yours — I mean, you too.”</p><p>“Well,” Luke says, “obviously, or you wouldn’t have agreed to live here.”</p><p>It’s a little bit of untouched ground, the subject of Ashton moving in, because despite him having committed to doing so, it’s not like they have any sort of plan. Ashton <em> does </em> have a life outside of Oak Street — has things he’s supposed to be doing, and people who Luke’s more than certain have been trying to reach him. Besides, Ashton hasn’t left the house since he got here. Luke has a backyard, but he can tell Ashton’s starting to get restless. The only reason Luke can think of why Ashton might not just say <em> fuck it </em> and start going out is that he doesn’t want to drag Luke into the limelight against his will, which is incredibly thoughtful, but is giving Luke an immense guilt complex.</p><p>So they haven’t really talked about it, and Luke’s not sure what makes him bring it up now. Maybe the way Ashton is watching him, like he’s waiting, guarded, for Luke to say something, but Luke doesn’t know what.</p><p>“About that,” Ashton says. His eyes fall to the controller in his lap, and his fiddles with the buttons. “I know we haven’t really…discussed this, much, but…when you offered — did you mean for me to replace Michael? Like, when your lease is up?”</p><p>Luke thinks. “I mean, not replace him like, keep you here as a second choice,” he says carefully. “But I guess I was thinking that, I mean, the lease ends in, like, a week. And I was going to renew it anyway, but without Mike, so if you’re already here…”</p><p>“What if I decide to leave halfway through the year, though?” Ashton says quietly. “I don’t — I don’t want to be responsible for leaving you alone.”</p><p>That statement sucker punches Luke. “Ash,” he says, hand coming to rest between Ashton’s shoulder blades, “cut it out. If you even stay for six months, I’ll be happy. I can handle myself.”</p><p>“No, I should just decide,” Ashton says, like he’s talking more to himself than Luke. “I should know.”</p><p>“It’s okay if you don’t, though.”</p><p>“It’s not. Not for me. I like to have a plan, and it’s not fair to keep you in the dark every day. I’m — I’m staying. I want to stay.”</p><p>Luke tries to process that. “What do you mean? How long?”</p><p>“How long were you going to renew the lease?” </p><p>“A year, I reckon.”</p><p>“Then I’ll stay a year,” Ashton says, resolute.</p><p>“Ash, you really don’t have to —”</p><p>“I do, and I am,” Ashton says. He looks over at Luke. Luke realizes his hand is still on Ashton’s back, and tries to ignore the way his palm is overheating from the warmth Ashton radiates. “You’re stuck with me, Hemmings.”</p><p>“Could never be stuck with you,” Luke says, more sincere than he remembers ever being. His heart feels like it’s beating wildly out of his chest. “You’re really staying? Like, you’re moving in, properly? For a year?”</p><p>Ashton nods. “If you’ll have me.” <em> If you’ll have me. </em> Luke can think of a number of ways he’d particularly like to have Ashton, and none of them are helping him to tear his eyes from Ashton’s, which are too green to be hazel and currently engulfing him.</p><p>“Nothing could convince me to say no,” Luke manages. His voice catches in his throat a bit, weak under the way Ashton is looking at him. His eyes are on Luke’s, and Luke is drowning in them; despite his best efforts not to, he’s already lost. The overhead light casts shadows over Ashton’s face, but Luke can see his eyes, shrouded in the dimness, and sees the way they flicker over Luke’s face. He’s not looking at Luke’s lips — he <em> can’t </em> be, except he is, and when Luke nervously tugs his lip ring into his mouth, Ashton takes a sharp, silent breath. He looks back at Luke, and Luke feels like something in his chest is going to explode.</p><p>He should talk. He should say something, say <em> I’m glad you’re really staying, </em> say <em> bet you twenty bucks if we walk into Michael’s room right now he and Cal will be making out, </em> say <em> anything </em> to break them out of this moment. Because there’s no way this is happening. Luke’s been this guy before. He’s misread the signs too many times not to be wary. This is <em> Ashton Fletcher Irwin. </em></p><p>But Luke can’t help it, and he feels himself pulled by some invisible magnetic force (<em>Ashton Ashton Ashton </em>) until he’s close enough to feel Ashton’s breath, hot against his lips. His pulse is more of a flicker than a beat, faster than Luke’s ever felt it, and he thinks <em> this isn’t real, this can’t be real, I must be dreaming,</em> and Ashton does the same ricochet glance from Luke’s eyes to his lips and back, and Luke can’t help but copy the motion. Ashton’s lips look so pink and so soft and Luke can feel the distance between them shrinking, wonders what Ashton tastes like; his fingers curl into the cloth of Ashton’s shirt, dragging against the skin on his back, and — </p><p>“Hope you like Hawaiian, suckers!”</p><p>Ashton and Luke spring apart as if burned, and Luke’s heart is still racing far too quickly to be healthy, and his mouth feels cold without the heat from Ashton’s breath. He’s dreaming. He must be dreaming. He’s going to kill Michael Clifford.</p><p>“We got normal pizza, too,” Calum says, coming out on Michael’s heel. Luke determinedly looks away from Ashton and focuses on Michael and Calum. It’s hard to tell with Michael, but one glance at Calum says all; his hair is clearly mussed up, and it’s not hard to figure out how it got that way.</p><p><em> At least someone got kissed, </em> Luke thinks, feeling bitter and confused and wishing to God he could travel back in time and give Michael a better ability to read the room, or a broken leg to slow him down, or <em> something </em>.</p><p>Ashton speaks up first. He sounds fine. In fact, he sounds...relieved. “What constitutes ‘normal’ pizza? If it’s anchovies, I’ll make my own dinner.”</p><p>Luke needs several minutes to regain his breath. His hands are shaking. He gives a half-hearted glare to Michael, who just looks bewildered in return, and then stands up, hurrying to the bathroom with a muttered excuse about needing to pee.</p><p>“Wow, fancy Ashton with the refined palette,” Calum’s mocking voice rings out, fading when Luke shuts the bathroom door and collapses against it. He slides to the floor, face in hands.</p><p>Ashton’s fine. Obviously Ashton is fine. He probably pulls this shit all the time. He’s probably seduced more guys than years Luke’s been alive. But Luke’s heart is stuttering against his ribcage, feebly attempting to break out, and Luke needs to catch his breath and <em> think</em>. He needs to think.</p><p>His phone buzzes in his pocket. Luke pulls it out. He plans to ignore it if it’s Ashton, but it’s Michael.</p><p><b>michael: </b>bro u good???</p><p>Luke considers telling Michael the truth, but he’s still kind of irritated about the timing, and confused about everything. Besides, his head is spinning and he can’t explain to Michael what just happened before he gets a chance to figure out what the fuck just happened. </p><p><b>luke: </b>yeah just really needed to piss</p><p><b>michael: </b>lol ok well hurry up</p><p><b>michael: </b>ashton looks like a lost puppy without you</p><p>Somehow, Luke finds that hard to believe. He digs the heel of his palms into his eyes until colorful spots start bursting through the darkness.</p><p>He needs to be realistic. That’s all. How many ways are there to explain this? Not many. Luke may be an idiot, but he’s not a fucking prude. He knows what the moment before a kiss feels like, and that was definitely it. Is Luke responsible? Ashton had started it, Luke thinks — but maybe (probably) Ashton hadn’t meant for it to escalate like that. Maybe Ashton’s intentions were innocent, and there Luke had gone, trying to kiss him.</p><p>Oh, holy shit, Luke just tried to <em> kiss Ashton. </em></p><p>Distantly, he brings a hand up to his lips, and they feel exactly as Luke would expect. He can <em> feel </em> Ashton’s breath, still. Shit. Jesus. Luke needs to pull it together. </p><p>This is something he’ll have to think about later. Much, much later, hopefully with some alcohol. No. Fuck. Can’t get drunk while Ashton’s here, that’s just poor form. Maybe Luke can go back to Cal’s. But then he’d be leaving Ashton by himself.</p><p><em> Fuck. </em> Everything is complicated now, in a way Luke never anticipated it being. He can’t be around Ashton (just thinking about it makes his heartbeat pitch, nervous and terrified and unsure), but he can’t leave Ashton alone. And above all, he doesn’t want Ashton to leave. That’s scariest of all.</p><p>So…what? What’s left? Acting <em> normal? </em> Luke’s not sure he’s capable. He makes a fist in the fabric of his jeans. Okay. Okay. He can be normal. He’s a fucking adult. He’s faced worse than this. He once had a customer repeatedly ask for a refund on a ticket for a movie he had just come out of watching. If Luke can handle that, he can handle an awkward moment with Ashton.</p><p>They’re both grown ass men, and Ashton’s probably been hit on a gazillion times. Luke’s just one of many. The best thing for both of them is if Luke pretends it doesn’t happen, so they can go back to normal.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>OOOOOOOKAY FINALLY SOME FUCKIN TENSION AM I RIGHTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT do you know how excited ive been to put this chapter up. do u KNOW how many times ive reread that One Section. FINALLY CAN SHARE IT WITH THE WORLD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. all the big kids, they got drunk</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Normal” turns out to be easier said than done. Go fucking figure.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>me: im gonna have an ao3 embargo until i finish posting hello hello<br/>me, last night: posts a fic on ao3 anyway because i guess i have no self control whatsoever<br/>but you knwo what. i do not control the fic. or the ao3. ANYWAY none of this is relevant but just have fun reading okayyy enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Normal” turns out to be easier said than done. Go fucking figure.</p><p>Michael and Calum leave around eleven, after they’ve sufficiently abused the gaming system, thrown the controllers a dangerous amount of times, eaten their combined body weight in pizza, and finally freed Michael’s posters from his bedroom walls. The moment they shut the door, Luke turns to Ashton and says, dully, “I’m going to go to bed. See you in the morning.”</p><p>He doesn’t give Ashton a chance to speak, just turns and heads to his room.</p><p>When he wakes up the next morning, he gives himself a moment to lay in bed and <em> pray </em> that Ashton’s, like, sick, or oversleeping, or has broken both legs in his sleep. But when Luke heads to the kitchen, Ashton is there. Making breakfast. Like always.</p><p>Okay. Normal. That’s normal, right? It would be weird if Ashton <em> weren’t </em> making breakfast. Luke can do normal. He can.</p><p>“Morning,” he says, surprised at how steady his voice is. (He can still feel Ashton’s breath against his lips. It’s killing him.) Maybe he can pull this off, actually.</p><p>Ashton turns around, spatula in hand. “Oh,” he says, like he hadn’t expected Luke. “Morning.” He pauses. “Uh, sleep well?”</p><p>Luke figures small talk is the best they’re going to get. He can do small talk. “Yeah,” he says. “Mondays, though. Not my favorite.”</p><p>“I never understood the Mondays thing,” Ashton says, and though he turns back to the stove, his voice sounds a little more familiar. “I’ve never really had the kind of job that cared about days of the week.”</p><p>“Take my word for it,” Luke says. </p><p>“I’ll just have to,” Ashton says. He picks up the pan and serves the eggs onto both plates. Luke takes a fork and starts eating. The sooner he finishes, the sooner he can get up, leave the kitchen, and think about anything other than Ashton.</p><p>He needs to be drunk, actually. He really, really does. “Mike and Cal invited me out tonight,” he says in a panic. Ashton stills, halfway to sitting down, and then slowly takes his seat.</p><p>“Okay,” he says.</p><p>“It’s, um, Calum’s birthday? Soon?” Calum’s birthday is in January. “Anyway, he, uh, wants to go out. Like, to a bar.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ashton says, and he might look disappointed, but Luke’s too worried about whether that lie is believable enough to be terribly concerned with how Ashton feels.</p><p>“So, um, I probably won’t get home until really late. Don’t, like, wait up, or anything.”</p><p><em> Tell me not to go, </em> he thinks desperately, which is stupid and unfair, because Ashton’s not a fucking mind reader. <em> Tell me you were going to kiss me yesterday. </em></p><p>But Ashton just says, “Okay,” again, like he doesn’t know how to say anything else. Luke is mad at himself and mad at Ashton and scared that if he sits here any longer he’ll say what he’s thinking, or tell Ashton he’s lying.</p><p>“I should go,” he says. “Thank you for making breakfast.”</p><p>Ashton looks pained. “Stop thanking me,” he says. It makes Luke’s heart twist, that they have an inside joke, and he tries for a smile, but then he remembers Ashton’s hooded eyes under the light last night and how much clearer they are this morning and it throws him off. The best he can manage is an unfortunate grimace.</p><p>He practically knocks over his chair leaving the kitchen, and leaves the house in record time without speaking another word to Ashton.</p><p>So much for <em> normal</em>.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>“Hey, Mike,” Luke says nonchalantly, as they’re setting up the new movie poster in the lobby. “Do you and Cal wanna go out tonight?”</p><p>“Are you asking me on a date on Calum’s behalf?” Michael says. “That’s honestly a new low.”</p><p>“No, I mean, with me,” Luke clarifies. “To a pub. To drink.”</p><p>Michael turns and looks at Luke, momentarily pausing his task of putting together the stand. “Luke, it’s Monday.”</p><p>“No, I know,” Luke says, “I just, I dunno. I feel like…why not?”</p><p>Michael stares at him. “Because it’s Monday, you idiot,” he says. “Okay, what’s happening here? Are you having a quarter-life crisis?”</p><p>Luke sighs. “I, uh, I told Ashton we’re going out tonight.”</p><p>“<em>Why? </em>”</p><p>“Because,” Luke says frustratedly. He still hasn’t explained the moment last night to Michael, because he knows what Michael will say. <em> Just go up to him and kiss him, you both obviously want to, </em> is what he’ll say. Luke doesn’t want to be swayed by Michael’s obviously biased opinion. He knows what happened. Michael wasn’t there. “I want to.” </p><p>“You’re going to leave your former alcoholic former best friend who you’re in love with at home alone to go and get drunk without him,” Michael says slowly.</p><p>“I’m not in love with him,” Luke says, too defensive. “And yeah, I am. He’s an adult who’s spent most of his life in Hollywood. He’ll be fine.” When Michael looks skeptical, Luke scowls. “What, I can’t have a life anymore? You don’t have to come, I’ll go either way.”</p><p>“Of course we’re gonna come,” Michael says. “Someone has to bring you home once you’ve cried your eyes out after three beers.”</p><p>“I don’t cry when I’m drunk,” Luke says, affronted. Well, not <em> usually. </em> Unless he’s already upset by something. Which he is right now, but that’s beside the point. He’s ignoring it. It shouldn’t be a problem.</p><p>Michael pats Luke on the shoulder. “Oh, Luke. I wish you were more self-aware.”</p><p>He resumes his task of piecing together the stand. Luke rises and looks annoyed for a few more moments before giving it up. It’s more effort than it’s worth.</p><p>He texts Calum, because Michael’s occupied:</p><p><b>luke: </b>hey drinks tonight? after work?</p><p><b>calum: </b>you know it’s monday right</p><p><b>luke: </b>mike and i are going to the pub</p><p><b>calum: </b>yeah alright, not like i have anything better to do</p><p><b>luke:</b> you’re driving</p><p><b>calum: </b>THERE, not back</p><p><b>calum: </b>you can’t invite me to drinks and then make me designated driver you dick</p><p><b>luke: </b>:)</p><p>Luke likes Calum best. He’s so easygoing.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>In all honesty, the reason Luke doesn’t go out much anymore is because he doesn’t really <em> like </em> pubs. They’re loud, crowded, and sweaty, and he sees no reason to pay someone to make him a fancy drink when he can just crack open a beer at home, put on <em> Lord of the Rings, </em> and relax. But he can’t drink in the house, not with Ashton there, and besides, he’s not drinking to relax tonight. He’s drinking to very deliberately ignore his problems.</p><p>“Vodka, neat,” he tells the bartender.</p><p>“Luke, you don’t even like vodka,” Michael says in his ear. It’s too loud to hear each other without yelling otherwise. “I’m embarrassed for you.” </p><p>“Maybe my tastes have changed,” he says back, as the bartender slides his glass across the bar. Luke downs it and immediately regrets getting vodka. His face twists sourly. “They have not.”</p><p>Michael shakes his head. “Seriously, Luke, we could’ve just gone to Calum’s and drunk a bottle of tequila. What’s with you? And don’t say nothing, because I’ll be insulted that you’re lying to me.”</p><p>Luke gestures for the bartender to bring him another. “Nothing,” he says to Michael, just to be an asshole. Michael looks like he’s about to smack Luke. “Okay, not nothing, but I need to be significantly drunker if we’re going to talk about it.”</p><p>“I don’t even know what it <em> is</em>,” Michael says. “Is this about Ashton? Because if so, you’re overreacting in a big way.”</p><p>“What’s about Ashton?” Calum contributes, shoving himself between Luke and Michael. “I thought we were drinking for fun.”</p><p>“<em>You </em> are,” Michael says. “Luke’s drinking because he’s emotionally repressed and doesn’t know how to behave like an adult.” </p><p>“Shut up,” Luke whines. “You’re mean.”</p><p>“You’re a baby,” Michael says. Luke pouts. “Proving my point.”</p><p>“You don’t know it’s about Ashton,” Luke says. “Maybe I’m just sick and tired of having you as my assistant manager. You’re a real pain in the arse.”</p><p>“Okay, fine,” Michael says. “Is it about Ashton?”</p><p>Luke stays silent.</p><p>“I thought so,” Michael says.</p><p>“I’m not talking about this until I’m drunk,” Luke says. He tips his third (third? wasn’t he on his second?) vodka down his throat. It doesn’t taste any better than the first two, but it’s starting to hit, so at least there’s that. Luke presses his lips together. They’re cold from the glass. Good. That’s what he needs. <em> Cold </em> lips. Not warmth, Ashton’s mouth inches from his and breathing heat onto his skin — </p><p>“Jesus fucking Christ,” he groans, leaning against the bar.</p><p>“Not loving the vodka so much anymore, huh?” Michael asks smugly, entirely misunderstanding Luke’s grief. Luke flips him off.</p><p>“You’re just jealous ‘cause you aren’t drinking tonight.”</p><p>“Oh, I’m not jealous,” Michael says. “I expect you’re going to tell me what’s wrong with you, finally, while most likely sobbing into my shirt, and I want to be fully sober to remember every moment of it so I can blackmail you. Preferably with photographic evidence.”</p><p>“You’re so mean-spirited,” Luke mumbles.</p><p>“What?” </p><p>“Nothing.”</p><p>Calum kisses Michael sloppily on the cheek. “I’m gonna go dance!” he says, grinning. Michael smacks his ass as he walks away, and Calum seems pleased.</p><p>“Come on,” Michael says, grabbing Luke’s arm and hauling him away. “Stop drinking.” </p><p>“No,” Luke says stubbornly. “One more.”</p><p>Michael rolls his eyes. “It’s not going to make a difference. The only people you’re going to speak to tonight are me and Cal.”</p><p>Michael probably has a point, but Luke can’t find it in himself to care. He tugs out of Michael grasp, takes the refill that the bartender has put on the bar per silent request, and swallows it. “Thanks,” he tells the bartender, and then he pays, because he hates having a tab. This time, when Michael drags him away, he follows willingly. They end up in the corner, looking either pathetic or gay enough that nobody will try to approach them.</p><p>"Okay, spill," Michael says, nudging Luke. "What's going on?"</p><p>Luke buries his face in Michael's shoulder. "Something happened last night."</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"Something happened last night,” Luke repeats, lifting his head up. “Or, well. Something almost happened. I think."</p><p>"What do you mean, something? Like with Ashton?" Luke nods. "Holy shit, tell me everything."</p><p>"You interrupted it," Luke says, scowling. "My pain is your fault. He — we would have kissed, I think."</p><p>Michael looks confused and delighted. "That's great," he says. "I'm not clear on why you're drinking now, though."</p><p>"You <em> interrupted, </em> " Luke emphasizes. "When you came back in after you ordered the pizza. You interrupted, and Ashton was <em> fine. </em> Like, he sounded relieved. I — I don't know, Mikey. I'm confused. I'm <em> confused</em>," he whines into Michael's shirtsleeve.</p><p>"What the fuck are you confused about?" Michael says. "Okay, you almost kissed and I interrupted you. Big deal. You guys spend ninety percent of your time alone together, just fucking kiss him, get it over with."</p><p>"I knew you'd say that," Luke says. "You don't get it, Mikey. I was the one leaning in to kiss him, and he obviously wouldn’t want to kiss me. I mean. Be realistic. You've seen Ashton. You think Ashton's going to be into someone like <em> me?</em> After the life he's led?"</p><p>"Well you'll never know if you don't tell him," Michael says. "God, you have such a complex. Get over yourself."</p><p>"Stop bullying me," Luke says. "I'm in distress."</p><p>"You're only in distress because your head's too far up your own ass to see the obvious," Michael says, sounding both exasperated and fond, although mostly exasperated. "Luke, I spent like four hours with the guy and even I can tell he's into you. Watching him play Fifa was tragic."</p><p>Luke doesn't have the capacity to process the beginning of that comment, so he focuses on the end of it. "Yeah, because he sucks at it."</p><p>Michael shakes his head. "No, you dumbass. Because every time you'd touch him he'd get all flustered and blow the shot. I mean, I thought Calum and I were bad, but at least I could still play Fifa."</p><p>What a funny standard by which to measure attraction. And <em> inaccurate, </em> because Calum and Michael are so fucking stupidly in love, and they both manage to play Fifa. “That’s nothing,” Luke says. “He probably didn’t want me touching him.”</p><p>“Jesus, get over yourself, Luke,” Michael says again. “You’re being stupid for no reason.”</p><p>“I don’t want this to ruin things,” Luke says. “I don’t want him to leave.” He knows he’s probably already ruined things, and he hates himself for it. The way Ashton had repeated <em> okay </em> this morning, like he hadn’t wanted to say anything else, god forbid Luke get the wrong idea — think Ashton might actually <em> like </em> him, think that moment in the living room really was a moment and not a misunderstanding — </p><p>“Luke,” Michael says, jerking him from the catastrophic spiral. “Look me in the face. In the <em> face</em>.” Luke does. “You’re being overdramatic, and you need to stop.”</p><p>“That’s pretty rich coming from you,” Luke says childishly.</p><p>Michael ignores him. “You’re supposed to be the mature one in this friendship,” he says bluntly. “How am I meant to make terrible life choices if I have to keep supervising all of yours?”</p><p>“You <em> are </em> a terrible life choice. This friendship is.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Michael says, not in a <em> shut up that’s mean </em> way but in a <em> shut up I have something to say </em> way, so Luke shuts up. “Ashton’s not going to leave. Which I know for sure, because even if he <em> weren’t </em> daydreaming about sucking your dick, he’s a nice guy and he’s your friend. But also, he very clearly <em> is </em> daydreaming about sucking your dick. I will literally bet my relationship with Calum on it.” Luke thinks Michael should value his relationship with Calum more, but he’s been directed to shut up, so he doesn’t say so. “Stay home from work tomorrow, nurse the monster hangover you’re going to have, and when you’re feeling like a normal person again, <em> tell him how you feel. </em>”</p><p>Luke waits a count of three seconds before he speaks, just in case Michael’s not finished. “You’ve had some pretty bad ideas,” he says, “but that’s gotta be one of the worst.”</p><p>Michael sighs heavily. “Well, I tried,” he says. “I’m going to go find Calum. Don’t sulk, you look pathetic.”</p><p>He gets up, and within moments he’s disappeared into the crowd.</p><p>Luke sits and sulks anyway. He’s Michael’s boss, not the other way around.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Michael’s drunk, because he’s the worst designated driver in the world.</p><p>“How much?” Luke asks, because<em> maybe </em> if it’s just one or two beers he can still drive. Michael holds up more than two fingers.</p><p>“Fucking hell, Mikey, do you know what designated driver means?”</p><p>Michael smiles sheepishly. “Yeah, sorry. Cal lives close by, so I figured we’d walk. You can crash with us if you want.”</p><p>Luke is in a bad mood, and Michael’s made it worse, so he folds his arms over his chest. “No way, mate. Have fun walking home pissed.”</p><p>“Hey, come on,” Michael says, but Luke’s already turned to go.</p><p>Okay, so he doesn’t have a ride. That’s fine. Luke doesn’t live <em> too </em> far. He can probably walk, too, if he knows where he’s going. Optimistically, he pulls open the map on his phone, and checks the walking time, which smugly displays <em> 1 hour</em>.</p><p>No fucking way Luke’s walking an hour. Which means he can either swallow his pride and crash with Calum and Michael (even though the guest bedroom bed is never made, because they never fucking use it, because they sleep in the same bed in Cal’s room), or… </p><p>Oh.</p><p><em> Come on, </em> Luke thinks. <em> There must be a better idea. Literally anything. </em> But none strike him, and every time he gets jostled by someone in the bar his urge to get home to his bed and his pajamas and his comfortable room grows stronger. </p><p>If he’s going to swallow his pride, he might as well go all out.</p><p>He exits the pub into the chilly night and dials.</p><p>“Luke?”</p><p>“Hi,” Luke says, and immediately cringes at his own tone. “Hey.”</p><p>“Is everything okay?” Ashton asks. “I thought you were with Calum and Michael.”</p><p>“I am,” Luke says. “I mean, like. I was, but Mike was supposed to drive and then he got drunk, because he’s a piece of shit.”</p><p>“Oh,” Ashton says, like he’s not sure where this is going. Luke squeezes his eyes shut.</p><p>“Um…you, you can drive, right?”</p><p>“Yes,” Ashton says, and<em> then </em>it clicks. “Oh. Do you want me to come get you?”</p><p>“Yes, thanks,” Luke says, voice small. “My car keys should be on the table by the door. I’ll send you my location.”</p><p>“Okay,” Ashton says. “I’ll be there soon.”</p><p>“Thank you,” Luke says, and hangs up. He sits on the curb and waits, feeling all sorts of horrible feelings and wishing he’d stayed home tonight.</p><p>When Ashton pulls up in Luke’s beat-up car, Luke doesn’t waste any time sliding into the passenger seat. It’s strange, seeing Ashton behind the wheel of his car, and Luke’s drunk enough to decide that he <em> likes </em> it, how domestic he looks, how he can subtly trace the lines of muscle down Ashton’s forearms when they’re stretched out to the steering wheel. But then he feels guilty for staring, because the last thing he wants is to make Ashton uncomfortable, so he tears his eyes away.</p><p>“Thanks for coming to get me,” he mumbles, looking at his knees. Ashton pulls away from the curb.</p><p>“Of course,” Ashton says. He hesitates, then says, “I’m glad you called.”</p><p>Luke hums. He’s not sure what to say to that. <em> Why? </em> he wants to ask. <em> Why are you glad?  </em>But that feels like the kind of thing that’s too needy to voice, so he doesn’t.</p><p>The drive isn’t long, but Luke almost nods off anyway, deep in his well of self-pity and too tired to deal with feelings. When they pull up to the house, Luke traipses inside, and almost manages to sneak away without having to say anything further to Ashton. </p><p>“Luke,” Ashton says. <em> Damn</em>. Luke turns around. Ashton’s standing in front of the door, sleeves pulled over his hands, and he’s fidgeting nervously. It reminds Luke so viscerally of that first night, three weeks ago, that he staggers to find his footing for a moment.</p><p>“Yeah?”</p><p>“Are you — I mean, are we…” </p><p>Luke’s face feels hot. “Say a sentence,” he says sharply, and Ashton looks hurt, and then hardened. </p><p>“Okay,” he says, tightly. “Are you mad at me?”</p><p>“No,” Luke says, wishing it were a lie. He’s digging around in the tangled web of emotions he’s currently experiencing in regards to Ashton, and anger is nowhere in sight. He wants to be angry, but instead he just feels disappointed.</p><p>Ashton stares at him. “No?”</p><p>“No,” Luke repeats. “Are you mad at me?”</p><p>“No.”</p><p>“Okay, then.”</p><p>“But —” Ashton breaks off. “Never mind. I’m sorry. You’re drunk. Go to sleep. I’ll — I’ll see you tomorrow.”</p><p>Luke waits another moment, in case there’s something else. It turns out he has the something else. “Are you lying?”</p><p>“What?”</p><p>“About being mad,” Luke says, uneasily. “Like, you can be mad at me. I — I get it if you are. I’m not — just, please don’t leave?”</p><p>“Leave?” Ashton echoes, looking bewildered. “Luke, what are you talking about? I’m not mad. I — I could never be mad at you.”</p><p><em> That’s because you don’t know what I’m thinking right now, </em> Luke mourns in his head. “Don’t leave,” he repeats. “You said you’d stay.” He sounds clingy, and hates that he doesn’t care. If Ashton leaves, Luke will <em> definitely </em>cry.</p><p>“I won’t leave, Luke.” Ashton’s voice is so soft and warm. “I promise.”</p><p>Luke looks down at his feet. He’s embarrassed, abruptly, at this whole situation; ashamed at having to call Ashton to pick him up, and humiliated that he’s now practically on his knees begging Ashton not to go. </p><p>“I’m tired,” he says, not looking at Ashton. “Thank you for getting me. Um, goodnight.”</p><p>And for the second time in twenty-four hours, he leaves Ashton standing alone in the living room.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. won't you help me sober up</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>There’s water and paracetamol on Luke’s side table when he wakes up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>HERE WE ARE EVERYONE CHAPTER EIGHT LET'S JUMP RIGHT IN look at me being prompt about the update even though i am on a ROAD trip i am in kentucky as i type this because i am drafting the chapter on monday even though i won't be posting it til tomorrow (which is now today) at which time i will be in a car, probably, and then missouri. crazy crazy times for me but i am a woman of my word so here is a chapter anyway enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There’s water and paracetamol on Luke’s side table when he wakes up. He squints groggily at the clock and leaps out of bed when he sees the time. Noon? It’s <em> noon? </em> Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. How is it noon? How could he have overslept?</p><p>Immediately he realizes his mistake, and his stomach revolts against the sudden motion. <em> Fuck. </em> Luke sinks to the floor and curls up, taking deep breaths so he doesn’t throw his guts up all over the floor.</p><p>Okay. This is bad, but it could be worse. Luke seems to recall Michael instructing him to stay home today anyway. He crawls over to his side table and retrieves his phone to check his texts. Sure enough, there are three from Michael.</p><p><b>michael:</b> if I see you at work today I will forcibly remove you</p><p><b>michael: </b>I take your silence to mean you’re staying home and are probably still asleep. good decision</p><p><b>michael: </b>sleep off the hangover and talk to ashton :) love you</p><p>Talk to Ashton. Yeah, right.</p><p>Luke takes the painkillers and chases them down with water. His head hurts, his stomach is still rebelling from moving so quickly, and Ashton has taken the time to bring Luke water and painkillers. Beneath the humiliation and rampant discomfort of remembering the previous night, he feels awash with appreciation. That feeling aches more than his pounding head; Ashton is taking care of him because he’s nice. Or because he feels like he owes some twisted debt to Luke. Or maybe because Luke had practically begged him, yesterday, not to go, and Ashton is pitying his desperation. (Luke winces just remembering it.)</p><p>This is a little-brother-zone move if Luke’s ever seen one.</p><p>And it’s not that Luke feels owed anything, or like he <em> deserves </em> Ashton, or anything fucked up like that. But for ten seconds in the moment before they almost kissed, Luke could’ve convinced himself there had been something, and now he’s back to square one, lonely and miserable and hungover and alone.</p><p>Well, not alone.</p><p>He can’t stay in his room forever. He’s starving, and desperately needs a shower. Steeling himself, he gets to his feet and makes it to the bathroom without running into (or even hearing) Ashton.</p><p>The hot water streaming down Luke’s scalp does wonders for his attitude. By the time he steps out of the shower into the steamy bathroom, he’s feeling ten times better. Still sorely embarrassed from last night, but maybe Ashton will pretend it didn’t happen. <em> That seems to be the theme, </em> Luke thinks, feeling a little bitter. He swipes a hand across the mirror and looks at himself in the break in the mist. Normal. Just a guy skipping work because of a hangover. Great. Hopefully he can just grab something to eat and leave the house before he has to see or speak to Ashton.</p><p>Even as Luke thinks it, he knows that’s not fair to Ashton. He can’t just avoid Ashton, <em> especially </em> not after Ashton has been so kind to him. They live together now, for fuck’s sake, and the absolute last thing Luke wants to do is jeopardize that. He doesn’t deserve to have Ashton, but he can fix their friendship, at least. Something is wrong. Luke can make it right, if he just fucking talks to Ashton.</p><p><em> Fuck</em>. Michael is right, <em> again</em>. Luke needs better friends who aren’t smarter than him.</p><p>He gets dressed and then makes his way to the kitchen, which is empty. It’s so jarring that Luke stands in the doorway for a moment, looking like an idiot. Now that he thinks of it, he’s woken up to Ashton cooking at the stove almost every day for the past three weeks. He stares at the stove for another second and feels the guilt crushing him. He’s grown so used to Ashton being here, just in the last three weeks; it had been so easy to fall back into the friendship they used to have, and now Luke’s ruined it.</p><p>As he makes for the fridge to see if there’s anything to eat, he hears a sound and turns. Ashton halts, a deer in headlights in the kitchen doorway.</p><p>“Oh, hi,” Luke says. He feels stiff and awkward and mentally slaps himself. <em> Get it together, Hemmo. You’re fixing this. </em>He clears his throat, then smiles. “Good morning? Or, uh. Afternoon?”</p><p>“Hi,” Ashton says. “Good, uh, afternoon.”</p><p>“I’m working on lunch,” Luke says. “Have you eaten?”</p><p>“Not yet,” Ashton says. </p><p>Luke swallows, because a week ago he wouldn’t have even had to offer. But he’s <em> fixing </em> this. “Join me?”</p><p>“Really?” </p><p><em> Fuck. </em> Luke feels that one like an arrow in his chest. “Yeah,” he says. “I’ll even cook. Although I’ll probably just, like, reheat pasta or make ramen.”</p><p>Ashton looks a little unsure, but he sits. “That’s okay,” he says. “I’m okay with whatever.”</p><p>Good start. Luke turns back to the fridge and takes out the leftover pasta from a couple nights ago with two plates. “Gourmet meal, coming up,” he says. Ashton chuckles nervously.</p><p>“Sorry I didn’t wake you for work,” he says, and sounds far too apologetic. “You seemed like you could use the rest.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Luke says. “I needed it. And, um, thanks for the painkillers. And the water. I always forget to get them out for my morning self, so.”</p><p>“No problem,” Ashton says. “You, um.” And then he falls silent.</p><p>“I what?”</p><p>“Nothing,” Ashton mumbles.</p><p>Luke sighs and puts the pasta on both plates. “I know you said you’re not mad at me, but you could be a little more convincing,” he says.</p><p>“What in the world could I possibly be mad at you for?” Ashton says, perplexed as he’d been last night. “I thought you were mad at <em> me.</em>”</p><p>“Fucking <em> why,</em>” Luke says as he puts the plates in the microwave. “You’ve done <em> nothing. </em> All you’ve done is be nice and thoughtful and perfect, and I’ve been a right asshole.”</p><p>“No you haven’t!” Ashton sounds alarmed.</p><p>“Come on, Ash,” Luke says. “I’ve been a dick. I was avoiding you. I lied about Calum’s birthday to avoid you. That’s a shit move.”</p><p>“You lied about Calum’s birthday?”</p><p>“His birthday’s in January, and I’m a jackass,” Luke says. “Admit it.”</p><p>“I will not,” Ashton says. “You aren’t. Well.” He considers. “Lying about Calum’s birthday is kind of a dick move, but I think it’s justified.”</p><p>“By <em> what? </em>”</p><p>“By me overstepping,” Ashton says. “I owe you an apology, okay? I — I know I do. I fucked up.”</p><p>What? “What?”</p><p>The microwave beeps, cutting through the conversation. Luke takes the pasta out, grabs two forks, and slides a plate over to Ashton as he sits. “Don’t apologize. Don’t even try.” </p><p>“I can’t say thank you <em> or </em>sorry? There’s not much freedom of speech in this house,” Ashton says, a nervous undercurrent to his teasing tone.</p><p>“You just have nothing to be sorry for. I should be apologizing to you.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>Luke can’t help but feel like this conversation is a dance, carefully weaving words to tread around the elephant in the room, and it’s exhausting. <em> Fuck it</em>, he thinks. They can’t move past it until Luke fixes it, and Luke can’t fix it until they acknowledge it. “I tried to kiss you. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Ashton looks like he’s just been poked with a cattle prod. “No,” he says harshly. Then, calmer: “Sorry — but no. I tried to kiss <em> you</em>, Luke.”</p><p>Luke’s heart crawls into his throat and sets up permanent residence. For a moment he’s too taken aback to speak. “You did what?”</p><p>Ashton stares at him. “I tried to kiss you. But you…you seemed so offended — you ran off just after Michael came in, and then you couldn’t even look me in the eye. I — I thought I fucked up. I thought you’d want me to leave.”</p><p>That’s not possible. No fucking way. Because if Ashton had tried to kiss Luke, it means — well. “Why,” Luke says dumbly. “Um, why would you try to kiss me?”</p><p>“Why would you try to kiss <em> me? </em>” Ashton returns. “I wanted to. And the moment felt right. I don’t know.”</p><p>“That’s —” Luke shakes his head. “I thought — I thought you were — oh, God, Michael was right <em> again</em>.” He groans and puts his head in his hands.</p><p>Ashton gives a nervous chuckle. “Michael was right?”</p><p>“No, nothing,” Luke says. “Wait. Fuck. You wanted to kiss me. Really? <em> Me? </em>”</p><p>Ashton exhales gently. “Have you seen you? Have you <em> met </em> you?”</p><p>“Ashton,” Luke says, practically hysterical, “have you met <em> you?</em> ” Ashton can’t be into him. It doesn’t make sense. And yet here he is, sitting in front of Luke with an untouched plate of pasta, looking at Luke with — <em> disbelief</em>, and <em> adoration,</em> and Luke is trying to reconcile that expression with Ashton wanting to kiss him. Liking him, maybe. </p><p>“I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks,” Ashton admits, cheeks pink. Luke’s heart beats arrythmically. He struggles to catch his breath. </p><p>“Why don’t you, then?” he says, hoarse. Ashton’s eyes catch his, and Luke sees the same look now as he did before they almost kissed, green-hazel eyes swallowing him up like they always do. Struck by sudden courage, he tugs his lip ring into his mouth, and sure enough, Ashton’s eyes follow the movement.<em> Interesting, </em>Luke thinks, heart faster than the drumbeat intro of blink-182’s “Always.”</p><p>Ashton pushes his chair out and comes around the table, and Luke stands up, but he’s not sure which one of them initiates it, just that one moment they’re standing and the next they’re kissing. Ashton’s hands land loosely on Luke’s hips, and Luke threads his fingers through Ashton’s hair, which is just as soft as he’d imagined it would be, and he’s <em> kissing Ashton Irwin</em>. He’s already out of breath from the realization. With no degree of caution, either; Ashton presses forward, tongue prying into Luke’s mouth, and Luke could die. Luke <em> might </em> die. He feels like he’s been electrocuted, and all his nerve endings are on fire, and all he can do is push back into it. Ashton’s tongue teases at Luke’s lip ring and Luke makes a hungry noise without meaning to. He pulls back, trying not to make it obvious that he’s fighting for air.</p><p>“Fuck,” he says, too dazed to say anything else.</p><p>“Fuck,” Ashton echoes. Luke is relieved that Ashton also sounds partially breathless; at least he’s not alone.</p><p>“Uh, for the record. I’ve wanted to kiss you for weeks, too. Like, it goes both ways,” Luke tells Ashton, which is more nerve-wracking to admit than it should be given Ashton’s tongue was literally just in his mouth.</p><p>Ashton hums, smiling. “Good to know,” he says, hands tight on Luke’s hips and eyes twinkling. “While we’re at it, you should know I think the lip ring is hot.”</p><p>“I noticed.” Luke exhales, a sound that’s partially a laugh. He’s giddy from being called hot. God, Luke’s weak. “Well, if we’re already here, I think it’s hot that you still wear my Good Charlotte tour shirt.”</p><p>Ashton shakes his head, grin growing by the second. “We’re a bit stupid, huh?”</p><p>“You are,” Luke says. “I’m very smart. I have a business degree.”</p><p>“You can’t cook anything besides pasta. You can’t even cook pasta, I think.”</p><p>“I’ll kick you out.” It’s an empty threat. Ashton grins, coy.</p><p>“You will not. You begged me not to leave.”</p><p>“Oh my God.” Luke tilts his forehead against Ashton’s shoulder, although his heart is still racing from the knowledge that he’s centimetres from Ashton, and Ashton’s hands haven’t moved from his hips — that there’s exactly one flimsy t-shirt between Ashton’s fingers and his skin. “I hoped we could forget about that.”</p><p>“No, it was sweet,” Ashton says. “I…I really thought you wanted me to leave, so. I’m glad you said it.”</p><p>“What?” Luke picks his head up and meets Ashton’s eyes, incredulous. “Why the fuck did you think I’d want you to leave? How many times did I tell you you could stay? Do you remember saying you planned to move in?”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ashton says, “and then immediately tried to kiss you, and that went swimmingly. Forgive me for thinking you might have changed your mind.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, you’re an idiot.” </p><p>“<em>Me? </em>” </p><p>“Yes, <em> you. </em> I’m not going to say this again,” a lie, “so listen carefully, Ashton Fletcher Irwin.” He puts his palm on Ashton’s cheek and gently steers his gaze to meet Luke’s own, and Ashton’s face is warm, and Luke tries not to become distracted. “This. Is. Your. Home. For as long as you want to stay. You can live here one year or ten and you won’t be imposing for a single second. You’re no longer living in my house, alright? We’re both living in a house, together. That’s how this works. I don’t have any more power to kick you out than you have to kick <em> me </em> out. And just so you know, in case you were doubting it, I want you here.”</p><p>Ashton doesn’t say anything for a moment, just keeps staring, so Luke takes the initiative, heartbeat pounding to his fingertips, and leans in to kiss Ashton again. It feels so unbelievably soft and gentle, Luke thinks he might melt. Ashton sighs contentedly as they part.</p><p>“I want to be here,” he says. He looks nervous, but sounds absolutely certain. That’s progress, Luke thinks.</p><p>“Good,” Luke says. “We want the same things.”</p><p>“I want to eat lunch,” Ashton says. “While we’re listing what we want.”</p><p>Luke thinks, <em> I want you</em>, but he’s not sure if it’s too early to say that, so he bites it back. “Did I stop you? I’m so sorry, Mr. Fletcher, didn’t mean to get in the way of you and your three daily meals.”</p><p>“Shut up,” Ashton says, and finally steps away from him. His hands fall away from Luke’s sides, and Luke immediately misses the imprint of warmth. “You distracted me.”</p><p>“And I’d do it again.”</p><p>“I’m sure you will,” Ashton says. He sits back at the table and eats a bite of pasta, which has surely gone cold by now, but he doesn’t seem offset by it. “Are you going to work?”</p><p>“I’m not sure.” Luke distantly realizes that his headache is mostly gone. “Yeah, I think so.”</p><p>“I can drive you,” Ashton offers. “Um, if you like.”</p><p>“Sure,” Luke says. “I don’t really know the midday bus schedule anyway, so that’d be great.”</p><p>Ashton beams.</p><hr/><p> </p><p>As promised, Ashton drives. Luke spends half of the drive trying not to stare, and then realizes that game is up, and stops trying to be subtle.</p><p>“What,” Ashton finally asks.</p><p>“Nothing,” Luke says, content to just watch the way Ashton’s hand drifts to the gear shift and nudge it into neutral as they slow for a stop sign.</p><p>“Not nothing,” Ashton says. “You’re staring.”</p><p>“Yeah, I am.” Luke smiles. Ashton blushes.</p><p>“Stop it,” he says. “You’ll distract me.”</p><p>“Eyes on the road.”</p><p>“<em>Your </em> eyes on the road.”</p><p>“I’m not driving. I can stare all I like.”</p><p>Ashton huffs, but he seems pleased.</p><p>Luke directs Ashton to the cinema, and when Ashton pulls up to the curb, he glances over at Luke. “Should I come in?”</p><p>Luke deliberates. Part of him really, really wants Ashton to. It’s only one in the afternoon, so it won’t be too busy for a couple hours. “Up to you,” he finally says. </p><p>Ashton seems unsure. “I want to,” he says, “but I’m not sure if I should.”</p><p>“Shouldn’t have been famous,” Luke says, shaking his head. “This is what you get.”</p><p>Ashton rolls his eyes, but he’s smiling, so he can’t be upset. “It’s fine, I’ll just head home. Tell Michael I say hi, I guess.”</p><p>“Ugh, fine,” Luke says. “But he’s going to say he told me so, like, a million times.”</p><p>“About what?”</p><p>Luke makes a vague, broad gesture that hopefully translates to <em> you, me, and all of this between us. </em> “You know.”</p><p>Ashton raises an eyebrow. “Alright.”</p><p>“Bye,” Luke adds, and is about to get out when Ashton grabs his wrist and tugs him in for a kiss. It’s barely started before it’s over, but Luke feels the blood rush to his face as it ends, and he ducks his head.</p><p>“Was that okay?” Ashton asks.</p><p>“Yes, obviously,” Luke says. “I’ll see you later.”</p><p>He finds it difficult to pull himself away from Ashton and out of the car, but somehow he ends up on the pavement, and he watches Ashton pull away, still thinking about the kiss, and how easy it had been, how natural it had felt, and wondering when he’ll get to do it again, and knowing that the moment Michael sees his face he’s going to realize all of these things at once and Luke’s going to get the I-told-you-so talking-to of a lifetime.</p><p>(Luke can still be pissed that Michael failed at his role of designated driver, though. That thought carries him into the building.)</p><hr/><p> </p><p>Michael takes one look at him and makes the most smug expression of all time.</p><p>“Don’t start,” Luke says.</p><p>“Tell me everything, then.”</p><p>“Right, should I start with the part where our designated driver went and got pissed?”</p><p>Michael raises an eyebrow. “Like you’re not bursting to tell me how good of a kisser Ashton is?”</p><p>“You have no idea what might have happened!”</p><p>Michael keeps staring at him, expectant. Luke hates him.</p><p>“Okay, fine,” he concedes grumpily. “Ashton’s a really good kisser.”</p><p>“Aha!” Michael points a victorious finger at Luke. “Tell me everything!”</p><p>Luke does, starting with the ride home the previous day and ending with the ride to the cinema today. He tries to be matter-of-fact, and not over-describe any of it, but he feels his face burning as he relates the kiss to Michael, and Michael smirks.</p><p>“Well, I’d say I told you so,” Michael says, “so I will. Told you so.”</p><p>“Shut up.”</p><p>“Did I tell you so or not?”</p><p>“You’re fired.”</p><p>“No assistant manager will give you better advice than I do,” Michael says airily. “It’s your own fault for not listening to me.”</p><p>“I’m filling out the redundancy form now.” Luke’s never fired anyone, and isn’t entirely certain how to do it, but he’s sure however it’s done, it involves forms. Luke’s entire job is filling out forms. “For the record, I’m still mad at you for being a shitty designated driver.”</p><p>Michael waves him off. “Move on.”</p><p>“Never.”</p><p>“So what’s the deal now? He’s moving in permanently, right? So are you, like, boyfriends?”</p><p>Luke screeches to a halt, a little bit. “Uh,” he says. “I’m not sure.”</p><p>Michael smacks his palm against his forehead. “Just when I thought we were getting somewhere.”</p><p>“Hey, we did get somewhere! I mean <em> I </em>did. You’ve been nothing but useless.”</p><p>Michael scowls. “You’re such a bitch. I wish I could fire you.”</p><p>“Should’ve been manager, then.”</p><p>Michael flips him off. “Let me know when you and Ashton figure out if you’re dating, or married, or what.”</p><p>Luke will let Michael know as soon as he knows himself. He wants to, like, date Ashton. He might be a little bit in love with Ashton. He really, <em> really </em> wants to do a lot of unspeakable things with Ashton, but even thinking that feels kind of rude to think, like he’s violating Ashton without permission, so he tries not to. (<em>Tries </em> being the operative word.) </p><p>Hopefully Ashton will broach the subject first. Luke’s kind of tired of being the one to initiate all these Serious Talks.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>!!!!!!!!!! FUCKING FINALLY AM I RIGHT!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ignoring the fact that i literally wrote it like this</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. my favorite color is you (reprise)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Ash,” Luke says when he gets home. He’s decided to just rip the band-aid off. “We should —”</p><p>Ashton appears in the kitchen doorway, holding a spatula and grinning ear-to-ear at Luke. “Hey! How was the day?” </p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>sorry ive not been stagger posting all this fuckin fic ive got i blame sam for me posting the emo lashton part 3 one but anyway i hope u like this chapter we are nearing the end!!! penultimate chapter eh big deal kind of (also this one's free but the next chapter is just an epilogue so like this is the last Real chapter so.....savor it)<br/>love u enjoy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Ash,” Luke says when he gets home. He’s decided to just rip the band-aid off. “We should —”</p><p>Ashton appears in the kitchen doorway, holding a spatula and grinning ear-to-ear at Luke. “Hey! How was the day?” </p><p>Luke’s mouth stops working for a second, and he falls a little bit in love with everything about Ashton, down to the fact that he’s wearing the Good Charlotte tour shirt again. “The day,” Luke echoes. “Uh, it was good. I kissed my childhood best friend, so I’d say definitely one of my better days.”</p><p>“Funny,” Ashton says. “I did that too.”</p><p>Luke shakes his head, smiling. “You’re wearing my shirt.”</p><p>“Am I?” Ashton glances down, like he doesn’t know, even though Luke specifically told him he’s weak for Ashton in it. </p><p>“Don’t try to be sneaky,” Luke says accusingly. “You did it on purpose.”</p><p>“Well, you’re still wearing the lip ring,” Ashton points out. “I’m trying to balance the scales.” Fair enough. “Anyway, it was still in my — I mean, Michael’s — or, well, I still had it, anyway. I can give it back once I wash it.”</p><p>“Please don’t,” Luke says. “It looks cute. On you.”</p><p>Ashton blushes. Luke wonders when he became this much of a sap. He’s always been a sap for Ashton, though, now that he thinks about it. Even on <em> Sunny Days, </em> Luke can remember himself trailing behind Ashton, always willing to do whatever Ashton wanted just to see him smile.</p><p>So maybe Luke’s not a sucker, but he’s a sucker for Ashton. That’s fine. Luke’s not ashamed of that.</p><p>“I interrupted you,” Ashton says. “You were saying something when you came in.”</p><p>Luke’s really tempted to say <em> no, never mind, it was nothing, don’t worry about it, </em> but he can hear Michael in his head, annoyingly, and Michael is reminding him that communication is the cornerstone of any good relationship. Luke wishes he could fire the Michael that’s in his head. He’s sick of that guy.</p><p>“I’ll tell you over dinner,” he says. “What is dinner, by the way?”</p><p>“I thought we could do, like, breakfast for dinner,” Ashton says. “Since you didn’t really have breakfast. So we’ve got pancakes and omelets. And, uh, toast.” </p><p>“Wow,” Luke says. “A gourmet meal worthy only of the stars of <em> Sunny Days.</em>” Ashton chuckles at that.</p><p>“It’ll be another few minutes, if you want to shower or change or whatever.”</p><p>Luke takes his leave. He overthinks the fact that Ashton has not only catalogued but actively remedied Luke’s lack of breakfast for the day. Does Ashton keep track of what Luke eats? Is he thinking about it? Often? Occasionally? Is he thinking about Luke?</p><p>Luke ponders this enough that it gets him through showering and changing, and by the time he’s out, dinner is on the table. Or breakfast. Or whatever meal this is. Ashton is sitting at the table, on his phone, but when Luke comes in his turns it off and sets it aside.</p><p>“Smells amazing,” Luke says. “As usual.” He takes the seat opposite Ashton. </p><p>“Dig in,” Ashton says. “By all means.”</p><p>Luke does, eagerly, and they sit in companionable silence for a few minutes. Luke’s pretty sure this level of consistently good cooking in his home is worthy of compensation. He swallows and says, “How was the rest of your day? What did you do?”</p><p>Ashton looks taken aback by the question, and grins sheepishly as he finishes chewing, covering his mouth with his free hand. “Good,” he says when he swallows. “I played some guitar. Oh, and — and I called my agent.”</p><p>“Oh?” Luke’s fork stalls on the way to his mouth. </p><p>“Yeah. To tell him I’m taking some time off. He was…displeased, but, like, he understood, so I guess that’s something? He wants me to make a statement to the press.” Ashton huffs to let Luke know exactly how he feels about <em> that. </em> </p><p>“A statement about what you <em> won’t </em> be doing? That doesn’t really make sense.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Ashton says. “He means well, he just worries. Anyway, I told him I’d call him back soon. And I should probably ring my parents at some point.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know. This is strange for me, you know? But — good. It’s good.”</p><p>“It’s good,” Luke agrees.</p><p>“Wasn’t there something you wanted to talk about?”</p><p>Luke hums nervously. “Uh…kind of, yeah. I just — well.” He swallows again, though this time his mouth feels significantly drier. “Well, like, we kissed, right? And that was — that was good. For me.”</p><p>“It was good for me too,” Ashton says. “I thought we already established that.”</p><p>“Okay, well, but like, are — are we — what are we?” There. A question. Nice and easy.</p><p>Ashton tilts his head. “I don’t know. Whatever we want to be, I think.”</p><p>“Okay,” Luke says, because that’s not helpful at all, “and what exactly is that?”</p><p>“Boyfriends?”</p><p>Butterflies fill Luke’s ribcage. “Oh.”</p><p>“Do you not…”</p><p>“No, I do! I do,” Luke says quickly. “Fuck, I’m usually so smooth. It’s your fucking fault. You throw me off.” Ashton laughs, eyes all crinkly and bright. “Okay. Will you be my boyfriend?”</p><p>Ashton folds his arms across his chest. “How come you get to ask me? It was my idea.”</p><p>“It was<em> your </em> — I asked first!”</p><p>“Yeah, but I just suggested it, so technically I asked first.”</p><p>“So is this a no? Mark this one down as a rejection, then?”</p><p>“No, but —” Ashton shakes his head, grinning. “Fine. I’ll be your boyfriend. But I’m not happy about it.”</p><p>“You could always say no,” Luke mutters, faking disappointment.</p><p>“I wouldn’t dare,” Ashton says, smirking cheekily at Luke. Luke just smiles in return.</p><p>“You’re my boyfriend now,” he tells Ashton. “You actually committed to that. And you’re living here for the next year, so you can’t break up with me. Legally. It’s in my contract.”</p><p>“Did that apply to Michael, as well?”</p><p>“Shut up,” Luke says.</p><p>“I’m not going to break up with you,” Ashton says. “I have no plans to, anyway.”</p><p>“That’s because you’ve only lived here for a month,” Luke says. “Just you wait.”</p><p>Ashton says, “I hate this table,” stands up, comes around it, and kisses Luke before he can reply. Luke feels like he’s floating, and he sighs happily against Ashton’s lips as Ashton pulls away.</p><p>“Don’t insult my furniture,” Luke whispers. Ashton shoves his shoulder.</p><p>“You have a chronic inability to be romantic.”</p><p>Luke doesn’t really think that’s fair, because Ashton has just insulted his table, but Ashton is still standing over him, so Luke tugs him down and kisses him gently. Ashton smiles.</p><p>“Did that pass your romance test?” he teases. “Can we finish dinner now?”</p><p>Ashton sits down, but he’s still smiling, and even as he takes another bite of his food the smile stays, so Luke thinks he’s passed.</p><p>“You’ll have to leave the house at some point,” he realizes as Ashton’s chewing. </p><p>Swallowing, Ashton says, “Ideally, yeah.”</p><p>“You’re not worried it’ll, I don’t know.” Luke shrugs, presses his lips together. “Draw the masses?”</p><p>“Are you?” Suddenly Ashton’s worried gaze is dialed up to eleven, and Luke’s hit with the full force. “I don’t want to put you on the spot. That’s the last thing I want. You’ve got this amazing corner and I know you don’t want to be in the spotlight.”</p><p>“No, it’s fine,” Luke says. “Honestly. I — you’re more important to me than my, like, privacy.” The moment he says it he hears how stupidly cheesy it sounds, how head-over-heels he so obviously is. Ashton’s face turns a delicate shade of pink, and he glances down at his plate.</p><p>“I shouldn’t be,” he says.</p><p>“Well, too bad. Look, Ash, seriously. Go for a run, go to the shops, come to the cinema.”</p><p>“Can I?” Ashton interrupts, eager. “Come to the cinema?”</p><p>Luke frowns. “I mean, yes? If you really want to? But I thought you didn’t like movies that much.”</p><p>“I like movies! I just find them hard to watch sometimes.”</p><p>“That’s basically what it means to not like movies.”</p><p>“I like movies,” Ashton insists, biting back a laugh that Luke can sense anyway. It makes him giggle in turn. “But I don’t need to see a movie, anyway. I just want to see how you work. Where you work.”</p><p>“I’m not sure you do,” Luke says. “Michael works there too, you know. And he’s a menace. Gets nothing done and just hangs around eating all the concessions. If you come, he’ll tease you relentlessly.”</p><p>“I think I’ll manage,” Ashton says dryly.</p><p>Luke shrugs. “Your funeral.”</p><p>Ashton laughs at that. “So what’s the plan for tonight? Kick back and relax?”</p><p>“Whatever we want to do,” Luke says, echoing Ashton’s words from before. “World is our oyster.”</p><p>“Wanna play a game?” Ashton asks. “Uno?”</p><p>“Sure, if you’re okay with getting absolutely destroyed.”</p><p>“Oh, that’s how it is?” Ashton raises his eyebrows, crossing his arms over his chest. He smirks. The overall picture is pretty hot, and Luke blushes. “I’ll have you know I’m a very proficient Uno player.”</p><p>“Doesn’t matter,” Luke replies. “Michael cheats, and I’ve beaten him.”</p><p>“You’re on.”</p><p>“Fine. Prepare to lose, Irwin.”</p><p>“I’ll bet you anything I win,” Ashton says. Of <em> course </em> he’s the type to bet. Betting to him is probably nothing at all. He’s like Tony fucking Stark.</p><p>“Not all of us are multi-millionaires,” Luke teases.</p><p>“Not money, then.”</p><p>Luke hums. “Alright, what do you propose?”</p><p>“If I win, you make dinner tomorrow night.”</p><p>“That should be what happens if you <em> lose</em>,” Luke says emphatically. “We’ll both suffer.”</p><p>Ashton snorts. “Okay. If I win, I get to come to work with you tomorrow.”</p><p>Luke opens his mouth to argue, to say <em> I </em> want <em> you to come to work with me, </em> but stops himself. If Ashton wants to call that a punishment on Luke, that’s his prerogative. “Fine,” he says. “And if I win, you have to let me Tweet something from your phone.”</p><p>Ashton shakes his head, smiling. “Jesus, go for the jugular, will you? Okay. Best of three.”</p><p>“I’ll get the deck,” Luke says sweetly. “You can clean up.”</p><p>Ashton laughs right up until he’s losing Uno. </p><p>(Luke Tweets <em> the new bond movie is terrible. anyone who enjoyed it has bad taste unless you watched it for the super hot leading guy </em> and this time Ashton really doesn’t stop laughing.)</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. epilogue: how's it go again?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>If Michael suggests <i>Love, Actually</i> one more time, Luke is going to riot. And if Ashton sides with him one more time, Luke will break up with him.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>the final tuesday !!! sad to see her go :'((( BUT proud to have her done. and happy that you get the completed fic now !!!! this is just the epilogue, so unfortunately it is short, but hopefully you enjoy it nonetheless. and anyway just because this particular fic is done doesn't mean this 'verse is retired...................anyway. we will see.<br/>love you all, thank you to everyone who ever read this fic, thank you especially to people who stuck with it from the first chapters, and to every single person who's left a comment, you own my WHOLE heart. the entire thing. that said: onward!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>If Michael suggests <em> Love, Actually </em> one more time, Luke is going to riot. And if Ashton sides with him one more time, Luke will break up with him.</p>
<p>“You guys are ignoring the obvious choice,” Michael says impatiently, over Calum and Luke bickering. “<em>Love, Actually. </em>”</p>
<p>“Michael, I swear to fucking God,” Luke says.</p>
<p>“What do you have against romantic comedies?” Ashton says. Luke digs his elbow into Ashton’s stomach without looking at him.</p>
<p>“We <em> just </em> watched that movie! I want to watch an action film! Is that a fucking crime?”</p>
<p>“How about the new James Bond?” Calum says, grinning.</p>
<p>“No, the lead actor’s weird,” Ashton says. “He pulled this super cagey disappearing act after he made that movie.”</p>
<p>“I heard he joined a sex cult,” Michael says.</p>
<p>“Cokehead,” Luke puts in.</p>
<p>Calum shakes his head. “Fine. What about <em> Mission: Impossible </em>?”</p>
<p>“I fucking hate those movies,” Michael says.</p>
<p>“Mike, you’ve literally never seen one.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but they’re basically the same as Bond movies.”</p>
<p>“You’ve also never seen a Bond movie!”</p>
<p>“Because they’re all the same!”</p>
<p>“I’m going to break up with you one of these days,” Calum says. “Then you’ll wish you’d watched <em> Mission: Impossible </em> with me.”</p>
<p>“Why don’t we watch, like, a romantic action comedy?” Ashton suggests. “Like, uh…Luke, don’t you have <em> Princess Bride</em>?”</p>
<p>As soon as he says it, Luke sighs in relief. “Fuck yes,” he says. “No more arguments. We’re fucking watching <em> Princess Bride</em>.”</p>
<p>“Works for me,” Calum says, shrugging. “I was in favor of an action movie anyway. Mike, stop fucking eating the popcorn before the movie starts.”</p>
<p>Michael scowls and hugs the popcorn bowl to his chest. Luke says, “Cal, get the DVD?”</p>
<p>“Why can’t you?”</p>
<p>“Because I’m cuddling my fucking boyfriend,” Luke says, and lifts Ashton’s hand briefly off his own chest where it’s resting before setting it back down, as if to prove the point. </p>
<p>“I could be cuddling my boyfriend,” Calum says. “You don’t know.”</p>
<p>“I’m looking directly at you.”</p>
<p>“My other boyfriend. My ghost boyfriend.”</p>
<p>“You have a ghost boyfriend?” Michael crosses his arms.</p>
<p>Calum sighs and gets to his feet. “I wish I never met any of you.”</p>
<p>Luke grins from his spot on the couch. Ashton’s arm is wrapped comfortably around him, and Luke is leaning against Ashton, so cozy he could doze off right then and there, even though he’s not tired. The movie night is partially in celebration of the fact that Michael has officially moved out and Ashton has officially moved in (his name’s on the lease and everything), and partially because Luke had wanted to hang out with Michael and Calum. He tilts his head back, and Ashton meets his eyes.</p>
<p>“Comfortable?”</p>
<p>“Very,” Luke says, grinning cheekily. </p>
<p>Ashton plants a kiss on Luke’s lips. “You’re lucky you’re cute.”</p>
<p>“<em>You’re </em> lucky I’m cute.”</p>
<p>“Neither of you are cute,” Michael jumps in. “And you’ll never be cuter than me and Cal.”</p>
<p>“Our relationship was cuter than yours before it even <em> existed</em>,” Luke argues. “Childhood best friends separated on different paths of life, only to reunite fifteen years later and realize their feelings for each other? Show me that fucking Hugh Grant movie.”</p>
<p>“Not to mention we were on a TV show,” Ashton says. “Which is just cool.”</p>
<p>“You can’t fucking call your own job cool,” Michael says.</p>
<p>“I’m a movie actor,” Ashton protests.</p>
<p>Calum finally hits play and sits down next to Michael on the floor, leaning so hard into him that Michael has to put his hand on the floor to steady himself. “All of you shut up,” he says. “Nobody cares.”</p>
<p>“Ashton would never tell me to shut up,” Luke points out, smirking.</p>
<p>“Yeah, but Ashton sucks at Fifa.”</p>
<p>“If I hear one more word out of any of you, I’m leaving and taking the DVD with,” Calum threatens loudly. “Shut the fuck up.”</p>
<p>Luke giggles but dutifully remains silent, although he does reach out with his leg to kick Michael in the neck. Michael makes a noise of outrage, and Calum shoots him a warning glare. The movie starts to play, so Luke snuggles further into Ashton’s chest, sighing peacefully. Ashton chuckles and scratches his fingers against Luke’s stomach, as rhythmic and gentle as Ashton himself.</p>
<p>“Do you think if they made a rom-com about us, you would play yourself?” Luke whispers. “Or would they get an actor to play you?”</p>
<p>Ashton laughs. “Well, if they didn’t cast me as Michael, I’d quit immediately anyway.”</p>
<p>“I’d want Chris Hemsworth to play you,” Luke decides. “He’s the only man I’d seriously consider leaving you for.”</p>
<p>“I’ll have to tell him to keep away from you, then.”</p>
<p>Luke’s mouth falls open. “Do you know Chris Hemsworth, or are you just messing with me?”</p>
<p>“That’s for me to know,” Ashton says.</p>
<p>“You’re the worst,” Luke tells him.</p>
<p>“I’m pretty sure you can’t say that to me. I could have people doxx you.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, but then you’d face Michael’s wrath.”</p>
<p>Ashton hums. “Okay, fair.”</p>
<p>“Would you two quit whispering?” Michael hisses, reaching back blindly for Luke’s leg. Luke aids him in the process by kicking out against Michael’s back. “Ow! You’re such a bastard.”</p>
<p>“The popcorn isn’t yours, Mikey,” Calum says.</p>
<p>“You can share with your ghost boyfriend.”</p>
<p>“You’re such an asshole.”</p>
<p>“You love me.”</p>
<p>“I’ll love you if you give me popcorn,” Calum says, reaching over Michael’s one-arm defense. “I can’t believe you even still like popcorn. You work at a <em> cinema</em>.”</p>
<p>“Luke doesn’t,” Michael says. “But he’s weak. Natural selection will take care of him.”</p>
<p>“I’m in a prime position to kick you all night,” Luke feels it valuable to point out to Michael. “And my boyfriend could have you doxxed.”</p>
<p>“You can’t just threaten me with Ashton’s status every time I speak,” Michael huffs.</p>
<p>Luke totally can, and totally will. He lets his eyes flutter shut for a moment, allowing the room and everything in it to wash over him. The movie on the TV, Michael crunching on his popcorn and muttering “get your own” when Calum presumably tries to steal some, and Ashton’s steady breathing, the rise and fall of his chest, an easy reminder that Luke is the luckiest person on the planet.</p>
<p>He opens his eyes and looks back at Ashton. “Thank you,” he says quietly.</p>
<p>Ashton looks confused. “For what?”</p>
<p>“Everything,” Luke says. “Coming here. Staying.”</p>
<p>Ashton gives him a crooked smile, the same one Luke saw a million times when they were on <em> Sunny Days </em> and he was gearing up to tell a stupid joke but wanted Luke to laugh anyway. “Stop thanking me.”</p>
<p>Luke laughs. It’s a funny joke, mostly because Luke will never stop thanking Ashton, because for the first time in a long time he feels right where he’s supposed to be.</p>
<p>
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  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>...and they lived happily ever after !! :)<br/>i'm on tumblr <a href="http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/">@clumsyclifford</a> as i am sure you are all sick of seeing and i love you all and i will see you on the other side. byeeeee &lt;3</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>thanks for reading! i'm not the type to have an update schedule even though i suppose that'd be nice of me but. whatever. if you'd rather i have a schedule you can let me know lol alsoooo come say hi on tumblr i am <a href="http://clumsyclifford.tumblr.com/">@clumsyclifford</a> and i LOVE to chat also !!! if you liked it please let me know In The Comments Below ok jokes aside i really do appreciate when ppl comment it makes me smile so if you fancy making me smile then!!!! yeah alright that's all love you bye</p></blockquote></div></div>
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